Phantasm
by Szept
Summary: For a year now, Taylor's one wish has been to give back as much as she gets. If it only were so simple. (undergoing a rewrite)
1. Anesthesia 1-1

The position of a PRT director is a daily source of headache and frustration for Emily Piggot. It's a fact all her underlings are acutely aware of, some even understanding of the woman's seemingly permanent foul mood. Daily nuisances, and the stress involved, are something everyone in the organization must learn to deal with, sooner or later. Even something like dealing with a rampaging Lung becomes normal after a time, if no less terrifying. Everyone in the headquarters, and their boss especially, can appreciate not having to deal with unknowns.

Unknowns like the latest incident.

The obese woman's eyes scan the report lying on her desk for the umpteenth time in the last few hours. Two people dead. Five still in comas, out of the original twenty seven. Seventy two more assaulted by the power resulting in seven car crashes, and from that, five more injured, two of whom are faced with the prospect of years of rehabilitation - unless Panacea agrees to take care of them, which she hopefully will at the PRT's request.

The entire incident had lasted approximately four or five minutes, stopping as abruptly as it began. Another two similar, yet thankfully minor incidents happened shortly after the first one. Each was smaller than the last, and not even remotely as harmful. Just more reports of crippling pain around the docks causing some minor traffic accidents, happening in much shorter bursts, without more people getting seriously injured. Small mercies.

God, she hates dealing with the unknown. Parahumans make for the worst kind of unknowns there are. First, one has to figure out whether the new cape is a fresh trigger or an out-of-town one, though if the Director's experience is telling her anything, this seems like a pretty clear-cut instance of someone not fully controlling their powers, what with the two minor incidents that happened after the first one. Very likely, the whole thing was a trigger event, unless this new cape purposefully spilled their own blood after killing the two victims. The fact that both bodies they've found were in the same spot, around the site of the first incident, and that the later outbursts were so much shorter, points to a couple of things:

First – the perpetrator most likely did not intend for any of this to happen, and was trying to control their power. The two deaths, Piggot wagers, were most likely the result of the parahuman being in shock from their trigger event. Whatever it was that caused it in the first place – likely the dead men themselves, if the mismatched third blood type is any clue - there had certainly been enough of it on the floor for that to be a likely possibility. Piggot finds it difficult to believe that any cape out there would allow such harm to themselves before using their power.

Second – the para in question can't control their power all too well, further reinforcing the woman's belief that this was indeed a trigger event. That, and the fact it's the first sighting of this sort of ability around, seeing as Butcher has been confirmed to still be in Boston.

And third – the most important. This new cape is dangerous, extremely so, if this was just an accident on their part. A grimace forms on Emily's face as she ponders on the uses of a power such as this one. Subduing criminals? Maybe, it could be quite efficient, yes, if bad for PR. The issue is, there exist so many more ways to misuse it – the foremost of them being torture, taking hostages, and causing mayhem among civilians – all that without ever being seen.

At least the power doesn't seem to be lethal in on itself, even if putting someone in a coma leaves every opportunity for causing further harm open. It's troubling that the cape in question is clearly capable of following through with said opportunity. The plethora of stab wounds on both the bodies left behind were too clean, too precise, to have been a result of fighting. Now, it doesn't automatically mean they're dealing with a murdering psychopath, Emily knows enough about triggers not to assume, but the possibility is still there. The PRT can't allow to let the case go for as long as that probability remains up in the air. Nor can they assume that just because the deaths were caused with an ordinary weapon that the new cape's power can't actually kill. There simply isn't enough information available to really tell what this parahuman is capable of, beside inducing what the victims called "unimaginable pain". Emily suspects it's a bit of an exaggeration. Civilians rarely have a way of knowing what unimaginable pain is. Still, that it put people in comas is reason enough to be wary. More than enough to warrant the local superheroes' attention.

For while the nature of powers still remains an unknown, from Piggot's experience, a cape that is capable of causing this sort of damage, couldn't have had a cheerful life. And the trigger itself, killing the two men, is just a cherry on the top of an already rotten cake. In short, the woman fully expects a new villain to rear their head relatively soon. Having an ability to cause pain doesn't really inspire to become a hero, neither does starting a cape life with a death toll.

That said, the Protectorate and PRT aren't going to simply give up on trying to recruit this new para. They've waited long enough to see if any more outbursts would happen – none did, which is a good omen. Any gang would've already announced to the world that they've gained a new cape's allegiance, in addition to the murdered men being a Black and an Asian. They could, potentially, be Merchants, but the E88 and ABB keep their initiation killings between the other. Somehow, the woman can't imagine this cape becoming a rogue; what would a power to deal pain be even useful for? Either way, the possibility of recruitment isn't out of the question just yet, but knowing the business, they have to be quick about it to have any chance of success. After all, it will only be under probation that any such recruitment could happen after the mess that's been made. And if talking won't work, the threat of a parahuman prison just might, regardless of whether the casualties occurred happened in self-defense or not.

The PRT simply can't afford to have a cape like this on the loose. They need to be quick, and they need to be efficient. Emily would rather avoid imprisoning a potential asset, if at all possible. Shadow Stalker might have an attitude, but she's doing good work all the same. Who's to say this new cape won't be like that, as well? Perhaps even less trouble than the unruly teen? Granted, that particular feat wouldn't take much effort.

She puts a finishing touch on the instructions she's been working on, and presses the button of the intercom.

"Get me Armsmaster. I've got a file ready for him."

* * *

The tears had come and gone hours ago, having left Taylor curled up into a ball atop her bed, without any idea what to do with herself. Her plan has failed, and what a plan it was - the first she'd had in a very long time, that time spent living from one day to another, without hoping for a better tomorrow. As such, today is marked with a touch of novelty in her otherwise-monotonous life, both in how she'd been looking forward to following through with her long-lasting wish, and in how spectacularly it'd blown up in her face.

The teen would laugh at her own failure, were she not so absolutely exhausted. First... with how she provoked the two thugs into doing what she needed of them, and then with her frantic escape, followed by what must have been hours of crying, until she'd finally passed out. It hasn't helped much to ease her mind, but at least the pain is gone, and for that the girl is glad. It felt as if it was trying- as if it burst through her skin back there, after she did what her mind told her to do - after she let go.

It was... uncontrollable. Or it felt that way, anyway. Not that she tried to control it, really, when the two men kept playing their fucked up game with her. It was... a stupid thing to do – what she had done. There are so, so many other things she could have – should have tried, had she really wanted to go through with her plan. If she wants something done right... she has to be the one to do it, isn't that how the world works? Stupid of her to forget.

Still, it was a plan, one that would spare Dad the pain and self-loathing she knows he would feel if she'd done the deed by herself. So she got rid of all the evidence she'd so meticulously gathered. The notebooks, the emails, all of it. So that nothing could be found which could lead Dad to believe he's failed her. But has he not? Taylor can't tell. Because what could he have done, had he known? Depress himself even further by knowing all the details of her life? What's the point?

What's the point in getting up every day, knowing nothing would change?

Only something had changed, hasn't it?

It all feels like a bad joke has played on her. In the end, she hasn't- couldn't handle what was happening to her. Taylor had never imagined the pain could even get so bad, so excruciating and twisted. And it just would not end, nor would it have ended - that much she'd been promised.

Maybe she's weak, maybe she'd held out longer than the _others_ they spoke of had. By the end of it, there were two bodies before her, both bloodied and riddled with knife wounds, made by the very same knife that opened her own belly... only, now in her hands. How? Taylor doesn't know, doesn't remember more than the overwhelming pressure inside her, and the pain, so much pain.

She doesn't remember. But who else could have killed her tormentors but her? The thought is nauseous.

At the time, it didn't matter. All she knew was the pain from the beating and the slashes she took, from the still pounding headache in her skull – from her injured lungs, her opened stomach, and her raw, raw throat. And the blood. Everywhere. Hers and theirs. Why couldn't they have ended it?

The rest of the morning? A daze. People on the ground, smashed cars, the way everyone doubled over when a particularly nasty pain spike shot through her body. The realization of what the fact she's killed implies did not connect until much later, when the girl fell on her bed – that she's a killer, a parahuman killer, with a spot waiting for her in a prison. It was also then that the realization that she has powers truly sunk in, along with the thought that her abdomen was torn open, and that her plan would work out after all, in spite of how impressive of a fuck up it was.

After puking her guts out (and it only barely didn't end up as more than a figure of speech) right there on her bed, she had nothing else on mind but to wait for what felt like the inevitable. Still, she cried. The girl couldn't tell why – she didn't feel sad, just at peace. The pain was slowly going away, just as her thoughts were, just as everything.

And now she's awake. Unfeeling, with the sole exception of the dull aching in her head.

Slowly, Taylor moves her hand in front of her eyes. _Nothing_. She wiggles her fingers, only aware of the action thanks to seeing it. _There's nothing_. The girl blinks, aware of the fact solely from the split second of darkness accompanying the deed. Absently, she notes how her fingers stick to each other, as if coated in fresh glue – stale blood. It doesn't feel sticky. It doesn't feel at all. _Nothing does._

She stirs, turning onto her back to more easily peel off her sweatshirt and shirt, the latter in shreds and stuck to her skin. Jagged, ugly, thick and pale skin – in the place she knows there should be a massive gash. The young parahuman rolls off her bed, supporting herself on the wall once she falls to the ground, lacking the coordination to stand up unaided. _Still nothing_. No ground under her feet, no wall beneath her palm, no air in her lungs. _Nothing_.

Taylor lets go of the wall, finding her body much more cooperative, now that she's already standing, before taking an experimental step forward. Her world wobbles, for a moment, before the teen regains her standing. Then she takes another, and again, until her feet look properly still. Huh. A part of her power? She can turn her sense of touch off? She's not trying to do anything though. It just - is. Or rather - isn't. The girl pushes the thought away in favor of checking the rest of her body over. With some difficulty, stemming from being unable to feel the cloth beneath her fingers, she manages to strip her upper clothes completely, to find that all the other wounds. the punctures in her sides and the slashes on her arms, have closed as well. The bruises, however, stubbornly staying in place, coloring so much of her skin in reddish purple. Her teeth? She makes to run her thumb over them, before stopping halfway through the motion.

Right. A mirror, she needs a mirror.

The teen makes her way to the bathroom, tripping a few times on her way. And the sight that meets her in the mirror once she turns on the light is not a pretty one. Granted, she's never been pretty, but now, that she has a full view of herself...

At least her face didn't take much damage, the only sign of abuse being a bruise covering the right side of her neck and jaw. The teeth are all there too. She moves her hair to cover the bruise. It... yeah, it shouldn't be that visible, even less so if she covers it up with some makeup. Only she doesn't have any. Not at the moment, anyway.

Taylor doffs of the rest of her clothes before stepping into the shower to scrub the dried blood off her... everything, really. Once done, she almost mechanically moves to collect her ruined clothes and sheets, both stinking of vomit she's left on her bed. Crap, she needs to clean this mess up if she doesn't want Dad to notice, the smell of bile should disperse in – what? It should by the evening, shouldn't it? But the sheets will likely always smell acrid, and she needs to get rid of the blood too. Blood stains are supposed to be a bitch to get out. Neither her clothes or covers are worth saving at this point. Ugh.

She dresses herself again, before dumping all her filthy possessions out into the neighbors' trash can. There, problem solved. Dad shouldn't notice there's a set missing, he's missed so much more than that.

After thoroughly cleaning all the red-brown patches left all over the house, the young cape sits down on her bare bed, finding herself without a clue as to what to do next. She wasn't supposed to have to do anything ever again after this morning.

The clock says it's still many hours away until Dad comes back from work. Taylor isn't sure if she can talk to him, not today, not like this. It... shouldn't be a lasting problem. As much as it chafes to admit it, they've- she's become rather detached these last few months. The locker incident was just one of the many cruel _pranks_ she's had to deal with in that time. It's a lot more safe, a lot more tranquil to just not think about it. Every time Taylor sees her father, however, his eyes keep reminding her of just how much he wants to help, and how little he can actually do. Thankfully, he doesn't ask. And she has no want to talk, lest she'd let something slip about her plan.

It's better not to speak at all.

Taylor rubs at one of the silver lines left above her elbow.

What now? This... all of this, is entirely unexpected. She's got powers, which is – nice. Strange, she'd always imagined gaining powers as a world shattering experience, and as of yet, she's feeling... not much different, mentally speaking. It wouldn't feel different at all, were it not for one, tiny sliver of a feeling she's not experienced in a very long time, right there beside fear.

Hope.

She's a cape. How many times had she fantasized about being one as a young girl? She can't even count. But what is it that she can do as one?

...the teen isn't sure, to be honest. The world went blank when she thought death was about to lay its claim on her. And once she came to – there were unconscious people everywhere around, some still aware and writhing on the ground. It... must have been her who's responsible for that, right? She had not been in the state of mind to think about it back then - she was hurt too, all her wounds real - and just wanted to get home, get somewhere safe. But, if that's the sort of thing her power does, then how does she check without drawing attention? Taylor goes stiff once the realization of what she must do hits her. But there isn't exactly a way around it. At least, not one she can think of right now. How long will she be out? Should she leave a note for Dad? Eat something?

She's not feeling hungry, and she should be. Normally, she'd have already eaten her lunch, but there's not even the slightest pang of hunger that the girl can feel. She should eat, but she has a feeling all the food would end up being puked right back out. Pointless. Better to skip a meal or two and not have to deal with the bile.

Taylor grabs a packet of painkillers and pops a pill into her mouth to mute her headache, before taking a kitchen knife with her, and heading out of the house.

She's not sure if she wants to know, but can she afford not to?

* * *

"So... this all we got on them? Seriously?" The question's been on everyone's mind, but only Clockblocker voices his frustration on the matter. "I mean, it's been two days, what were the guys doing? Picking their collective a-"

"Clockblocker, keep it civil. Please," cuts in Aegis.

"Just saying. Not much to go around on, ya know?"

Carlos groans under his breath. He agrees that the file from Armsmaster is annoyingly lacking in information, but that's only because there's been nothing else to pick up on. The boy's eyes land on the file again, in his attempts to memorize the thing.

_**Phantom: real name unknown **(temporary/to be changed) (inside use only)_

_**Disposition: **unknown (?)_

_**Classification: **Shaker 5/Stranger 2 (?/? minimum) (temporary/susceptible to change)_

_**Last known location: **Brockton Bay_

_**Sex: **unknown (?)_

_**Height: **unknown (?)_

_**Appearance: **unknown_

_No previous record. First appearance involved one hundred and one (**101**) civilian victims. Among which: two (**2**) dead (stab wounds, knife left on scene, no matches for fingerprints), twenty seven (**27**) temporarily in coma, five (**5**) injured in the resulting chaos, sixty seven (**67**) affected by the power without further injuries. Incident lasted between four (**4**) and five (**5**) minutes._

_Power includes (unknown if limited to) causing physical pain in the victims (no damage to the body), causing temporary mental exhaustion, both to the point of putting victims into comas (unknown if lethal, or causing prolonged damage). Victims complained about pain from (assumed): stab wounds, deep blade cuts, shallow blade cuts, punctured lungs, ruptured muscles, bruised internal organs, crippling headaches, and blunt object trauma._

_**Instructions: **Call for backup when spotted. Approach with caution. Non-lethal force use authorization for contact on stand-by. PRT and Cape forces to propose position in the Protectorate/Ward Program. It is advised to avoid confrontation/antagonistic behavior - possibly a new cape. If met with refusal, guarantee leniency in regards to events of 01.13.2011. If met with refusal, use of non-lethal force is authorized. Cape too dangerous to be left as a rogue or to become a villain._

_If turned villain, use of non-lethal force is authorized on contact._

"-that it's going to be a serious pain in the- uh, back, to be on lookout for a shadow case."

"Shadow case, right. I don't think somebody with a power like this can stay hidden for too long," mutters Gallant.

"Impressive though," adds Kid Win. "I mean a hundred without even being spotted?"

"I'm not really sure about that part with offering position in the Wards or Protectorate." Vista's voice is tinted with concern. "I mean, they killed people."

"A lot of things can happen in a trigger event, and Armsmaster suspects it was one. But don't worry, we won't take a cold blooded murderer into our ranks," answers Aegis.

"I just don't like this," grumbles Clockblocker. "This kind of power is screwed up, and we don't know the extent of it. I mean, seriously. "He picks the file's page up to read it out loud. "Crippling headaches? Stab wounds? Putting people in comas? What's next? Giving you a heart attack?"

None of the Wards has an answer to that.

* * *

Taylor's eyes are empty as she observes the cat bolting away in blind panic. The girl herself is sitting on the remnants of a devastated bench overlooking the bay. She drops her head into her hands.

"Sorry, little guy," she whispers.

Her eyes switch to the cut she made on her left forearm, just under the rolled-up sleeve. It's deeper than she probably should have made it, but she'd wanted to see just how much damage she can do before anything approaching real pain kicks in. It hasn't yet. The most intense thing she's capable of feeling is still the pulsating ache in her skull. It should've faded by now, even without the painkillers.

The cut itself? The wound is no more painful than a scratch. Well, maybe a bit more than that, maybe like a paper cut, but definitely not like the inch-deep and five-inches-long gash that it is in reality. Her arm had gone slow for a moment after making the cut, however - leading Taylor to believe that while her reception of pain is greatly changed, her body isn't any more durable. Her muscles aren't, anyway. Her organs? She's not about to check if her more important insides can knit back together when her muscles skin don't do so perfectly.

She leans back on the bench, and lets out a humorless chuckle.

Fate really is a bitch. To grant her a power capable of hurting others, but only if she's willing to first hurt herself. It's not something she could very well use as a hero, not the sort of power kids dream about having. Could she be a vigilante? Maybe. A rogue? The only uses that come to her mind are... rather disturbing.

_Or a villain._

The girl violently shakes her head, wishing her mind to stop supplying such thoughts. The movement causes her headache to spike for a moment, leaving the girl grimacing in pain.

Let's not even go there. She doesn't want to hurt people - not innocents, at least, seeing as she doesn't have much choice, what with the nature of her powers.

Would she be allowed into the Wards anyway? Do they let killers in?

Her stomach contorts when the image of the mutilated, unmoving bodies, resurfaces in her mind. She hugs herself, not that the action brings her much comfort any more, and tries to dismiss the memory, afraid it will leave her dry heaving once again, just like it did after the scene had first assaulted her memory, almost as if happening right in front of her.

Taylor's tired eyes wander to the setting sun, before her gaze rests upon the cut once more. She watches, with morbid curiosity, as the wound closes itself in just a few minutes, leaving but a silver scar soon after.


	2. Anesthesia 1-2

**Topic: New cape in Brockton Bay?**

Taylor hesitates for a moment before steeling herself for whatever she may find inside and opening the tab.

It's been two days since she triggered and she's only managed to force herself to go to the library because she absolutely has to. She needs to know what the public knows of what happened, maybe there was something in the local news but she didn't catch it, new capes show up often enough that people no longer make a big deal out of it anyway. For some damage to be done in the process is not exactly a rare thing to occur. Still, she might have been mentioned in a broadcast simply because of the scale, while she might not have been in the right state of mind to count exactly how many people she affected that day, it must have been dozens at least.

The last couple of days have been... hard. She did not go to school yesterday but thankfully won't miss out on anything today since the weekend has started. She didn't tell her father about the skipping though, he would ask why and- she's quite frankly not sure if she can deal with anyone at all at the moment. Keeping up the facade in front of Dad yesterday morning was hard enough. She's refused to deal with it all today and pretended to sleep in. She hasn't really slept if she doesn't count passing out just after the- incident and yesterday while she was further testing the extent of her abilities. She just can't fall asleep, her headache- migraine really, keeps her from deep sleep and only allows for something similar to a nap, letting her pass in and out of conscience like when trying to sleep on a cold bench, probably only because she's too tired for her body to refuse even such a mockery of rest.

She has also had a lot on her mind. Most of it naturally connected to being a cape. She didn't feel like returning home that day after figuring out what can she do. And she certainly was not going to see how far can she go. She contemplated doing just that, yes, but ultimately couldn't even force herself to get off the bench she was sitting on. She wasted the reminder of the day there, dazed, shocked, sad. Feeling betrayed by the world.

She has always dreamed of having powers, who hasn't? What girl has not wanted to be like Alexandria at some point? Not that she had hoped to get an Alexandria Package, no, just something that she could use to escape her day life. She has no illusions as to why she wished for powers after Emma's betreyal. Escapism. If she could help people while forgetting about her troubles? Even better, but the main reason was that she just wanted a reprieve from the day to day misery that her bullies put her through at every opportunity.

Figures that she got her powers just when she decided she could no longer put up with it, and of course she would get a power that denies her even the small comfort of momentary escape from being hurt. One thing that had the potential to somehow change her life happened and in doing that has somehow managed to make things even worse.

Taylor's tired eyes sluggishly skim through the forum topic, it's not long. Consisting of only three pages and some speculation on a possible new cape in the city. First post beginning with one of her victims' account from Thursday's events and suggestion that a new cape is responsible for this. No mention of murder, thankfully, PRT must have covered that up. Logically, Taylor knows it was but a formality for them to arrive on site but it hasn't really been on the forefront of her mind. She wonders what exactly have they found out.

She can't feel it but her heart rate picks up a notch as she opens a new tab to Parahumans Online in order to search for anything related with what she's found out about her powers, but finds nothing connected to her trigger by using the most obvious two words, pain and Brockton. Relieved, she comes back to the forum to read more posts.

Maybe they just haven't yet gathered enough information about her to put it on Parahumans, not that there is much to know beside the fact she apparently caused property damage and landed some people in hospital, wincing as she reads that bit- she vaguely remembers seeing some crashes on her way back home but hasn't really thought about them, she feels guilty and it makes her sick. Emotionally, it is perhaps important to add.

Not much more in the thread than a couple more victims describing what they felt during the incident. Splitting headache, sensation of being beaten up, terrible pain in their abdomen, like a cut or stab. Only much worse.

She closes the browser when she sees the unanimous conclusion that it must have been a new villain playing with people. Not in the mood to depress herself by reading further.

She instinctively wraps arms around herself before remembering that it doesn't bring her any comfort nor warmth anymore. She hasn't really noticed it before returning home in the late evening, when Dad gave her a hug after seeing the apathetic state she was in. He was worrying, she knows he was worrying but she simply couldn't find it in herself to go home and confront him after... well after what she had planned to do, did, on that day. Her stomach clenches at the thought of how much trouble she is for him. She tried to make his life easier, she did! And look where that got her. Will he be in trouble if she is recognized as the murderer? She needs to read some on the topic, she should have done that two days ago but instead she just moped and caused him even more heartache like the excuse for a daughter she is. Seeing her state he let her go to 'sleep' without having to answer him until morning, it was... an awkward morning. She lied, obviously, he noticed, obviously. And then they both went back to pretending like their lives aren't so completely messed up.

She lets her arms fall down and after a moment of thought stands up to look for a book concerning human biology. Regardless of her feelings on the matter, she needs to find out as much as she can about her power and it seems like more precise knowledge of human body is a good thing to start with.

She puts an unruly strand of hair behind her ear, more out of habit than anything else. It used to irk the girl at times when hair tickled her cheeks. But even if it still does it she just can't feel it anymore. She can't feel much of anything anymore, anything physical that is not an extreme to be precise. Things like touch, minor wounds, her own body cues. She had a run yesterday morning, for miles without stopping until she fell over face first into snow when the dizziness that had been steadily growing during her run eventually got too overbearing. She waved it off as a stupid dare when a concerned passerby helped her get up and wanted to call an ambulance. Although his assumption of illness might not be that far off.

She doesn't tire, or more precisely, she doesn't know if she tires. She suspects the reason she fell during her run was as simple as running out of breath, she'd been wheezing in a way she did not know possible for a human before that point. But there was no pain, no exhaustion, not in any physical way. Her body simply feels as if it isn't there, she can't feel the air she breaths, muscles she uses, anything at all that isn't strong enough to get through the near anesthesia that her power seems to cause. Like serious wounds and her migraine. She wonders just how splitting the headache that she caused to the people around her trigger was. The way she barely feels anything seems to also apply to her migraine if the accounts of her victims are to be believed. Though of all the things to feel, that one is strong enough that she can't easily ignore it. Not truly painful but enough to disturb her sleep and thoughts. It doesn't seem to have diminished at all even after two days.

She hasn't yet checked on the other end of the spectrum, doesn't dare to, doesn't want to know. Isn't ready for it. She only knows for sure that her power robbed her of ever feeling the sensation of feathery touches, holding hands, hugs, kisses... She hasn't even had her first kiss yet and she won't be able... she...

She chokes back a sob.

It is as if the world wants to prove her wrong every time she dares to hope that things might get better. Giving her some sort of screwed up masochistic power and permanent senses damage so that she can mutilate her body to her heart's desire. She even gets to have scars! She just couldn't have gotten a healing factor strong enough to at least not leave her scarred.

No, that would have been too much to compensate for crushing her innermost hopes.

She wipes her nose with a sleeve after detachedly noticing the lack of air flow through it. A thought enters her mind that one day she will just forget that she has to breathe. It's noticeable for now as her body automatically makes sure to have a steady supply of air but she can't help but wonder if it will last. It wouldn't surprise her if it wouldn't, given how wonderful a gift has her power been till now.

And now she's crying again. Pathetic, she told herself she wouldn't cry two days ago and she broke that promise right after lying down to 'sleep'. Apparently her emotions finally catching up with the day. Damn it, where are her tissues?

At least she can still smell things. It is not the case with taste, aside from aroma, food is as bland as nothing she has ever tried can even compete to be. And it's not only taste that's been done away with, she hasn't felt hunger since the day she got her powers, nothing. If she were to guess, her regeneration probably burns through a lot of energy. And she's left with no way of telling just how much. Were she to feel hunger, would that mean she's actually starving to death?

She will know soon enough if her weight drops.

She wipes the tears off her face and blows the nose after finding the tissues, nobody pays her any attention, there aren't many people here to begin with and nobody else is looking for something on anatomy. Not that there is a high chance someone would ask her what's wrong if they saw a crying girl. What problems can a teenager like her have? A bad breakup? Taylor is both dismayed and relieved by that, what would she say anyway?

Funny thing? Once she got a hang of directing her power onto singled out targets she began trying small things on humans. Like tickling, she felt downright abysmal when she realized that she can tickle someone by performing the action on herself, but only her target actually feels anything.

She stopped the lighthearted pranks after that. They didn't make her feel better at all. Just the reverse actually.

What she used to get reactions out of pedestrians were needles. At least they don't leave scarring wounds, as a matter of fact the damage left by them heals almost instantly. She impaled her fingers and even palms on them, driving needles straight through. The later making her feel vaguely uncomfortable but most likely due to mental discomfort with the idea of sticking a needle through her hand rather than actual pain. People she used it on were a different matter though, needles don't cause much pain but enough to be noticeable, it would have been amusing to watch them if her mood wasn't already so down the drain.

She stopped her examination for the time being when she for some reason thought it would be good idea to see how much a reaction she can get out of her body by shoving a knife through her leg, grazing a bone in the process. She heard that femur hurts like absolute bitch, and it does hurt, just nowhere near as bad as it probably should. Taylor can't accurately describe it but it's somehow comparable to a spraining. She can only imagine how bad it must have been for the birds that simply fell from the tree under which she was sitting. Good thing she anticipated that she wouldn't be able to control it very well. If she did that in a more populated space... well that wouldn't have ended very well. People seeing her hurting herself being the lesser issue there.

She only realized she passed out after waking up, the wound already mostly healed, though her pants ripe for washing, she pulled them back over the wound before loosing consciousness. Out in the city.

Out of all the stupid things she could have done, she passed out in the crime ridden city, in January. Granted, not the worst area nor on a very frosty day but it was still just inviting a tragedy to happen upon her. Again.

Perhaps that's why she did it.

She finally finds what she's been looking for and heads to the library checkout, she's not in the mood to study it now. Besides, loaning it is probably a better idea since she will be able to make more detailed notes as she can check some of the theory on herself.

She leaves for home, many thoughts swirling in her mind. The most important one being- what now?

She's given being a hero some though but is honestly not sure if she can find it in herself to go out at night to ultimately hurt herself. While her regeneration is useful, it seems to be just an accelerated version of a normal human's. She could potentially take out simple goons thanks to it, if she were to learn hand to hand combat or get some sort of ranged weapon but in the end, without her... other powers she is just a normal human in a fight. A normal teenage girl. What chance does she have against the gangs muscle?

Actually, scratch that. Being a hero is one hell of a tall call while she's not even sure if she wants to be a cape. Not that she has much choice here but she could simply try and make the most of what's left of her life without ruining herself any further. However little of a life is there left to salvage.

Nobody can fault her for that.

Nobody but herself.

* * *

Oh Taylor, you're just not made to be happy. And man oh man, I'm just getting started.

I wonder to how many other characters and powers will my Taylor be compared to... funny thing is that I did not take the idea from anywhere else, though I do suppose it's not really that original.

Also, please refrain from calling poor Taylor an emo :( She's just been dealt a hand that pretty much fucked her life, but don't worry I won't have her start wearing heavy makeup and so on. She's depressed but not going to make a lifestyle out of it, give her time to get over the changes :p


	3. Anesthesia 1-3

Taylor wonders if she should perhaps take the needle out of her palm. And not because it's a faintly disconcerting thing to stick needles in her hand in the middle of class, no. That one is perfectly excusable, a little harmless thing to somehow enrich the otherwise boring lesson by furthering the control over her power. By now she has forced Emma to use her left hand to write after a couple of sharp needle pangs. She had at first been opposed to the idea of using her power in school, she could have easily continued with her research on complete strangers in the city but it just didn't sit right with her to cause trouble to random passersby. And if she's going to use somebody as a subject then who's better than one of her bullies? It's not some sort of petty revenge (however meaningless it would be, needles don't really cause that much pain if she remembers correctly). It's only logical to use somebody who certainly isn't an innocent to help her out a little.

And it's not like she's causing anyone any harm, if she stabbed herself with a knife, yeah. That would probably be excruciatingly painful, for others. But she won't do that, because that wouldn't be normal, because she won't sink to her bullies' level and because she's not a villain, naturally. There is quite the difference between what can be basically called a prank and deliberate torture. So yes, using her power on Emma is not an act of violence. If there is anyone she's actually harming it's herself!

Even so, she wouldn't be doing it if it weren't for the fact that she needs to gain more precise control of her power. Like for an example only sparing the sensations she wants to. Given that her once-friend wasn't clutching her head on the last couple of tries probably means that she's doing that one well enough by now. And she didn't get anyone beside the other girl after the first try either, so there is that too.

Then again, Taylor doubts she could handle, say a gun shot right now without her power going haywire like it did during the trigger event. If she could handle a gun shot at all, probably one or two without the need of immediate medical attention (having bullets stuck inside of her would suck). If they missed her heart and head, obviously, the girl doubts these two would make quick enough recovery. Eh, doesn't matter. She's not planning on joining the cape community any time soon. She has managed without being shot for so many years, no reason to break that trend.

She focuses on Emma and her own hand again and watches as the girl's hand jumps up from the sudden pain. It's faintly amusing, enough so to make Taylor's lips twitch in a shadow of a smile. Things have been like that for some time now, bland, muted. Long before her triggering.

Using her power is somewhat of a reprieve from that. However fleeting.

She briefly considers sending Emma a last one pulse but decides against it. She's working for once, if she won't finish on her own then more than likely, she will take Taylor's own, and where's the point in that? She's irritated already and what better way to take that ire out than bully someone?

Yeah... someone.

She slides the needle out of her palm and wipes the blood off with a sleeve. The girl glances at the punctured skin that has stopped bleeding before she even took the pin out of her hand. Hell, it was probably already healed, simply knitting back together around the offending object. She quickly puts the needle back into the little box she has taken to carrying around. An idea that she could simply use her arms to always carry needles with her without anyone being the wiser- sneaks into her mind for a second before she discards it.

Not because she feels disgruntled by the thought of using her body as a pincushion. Or the fear she'd get something stuck inside of herself without even noticing (though the possibility of this one happening is a legitimate concern, it already had). No. What she worries about is her body's absolute lack of reaction to using needles, there's no faint prickling or mental discomfort that it used to bring her not even a week ago.

It makes her want to cut herself open. Just to see if she will feel it.

It's a scary thought.

And it might seem a strange thing to be scared of in her case, but she still is. She never wanted to hurt herself, still doesn't, this- this is different. It's just Tuesday, just five days have passed since her trigger and already she can't stand it, this absolute numbness. She never appreciated the ability to feel before recently, never had much reason to and now? Now she would give just about anything to feel how cold and wet her clothes get in rain, or the touch of wind on her skin, the softness of a bed.

Little things. Stupid things that nobody ever truly thinks about.

Like getting a pebble in a shoe. Annoying. But she could only tell it happened after getting back home and noticing the blood soaked sock. She must have had been carrying it for hours for it to mess her foot up like it had. Not much of a problem since it was a superficial wound and didn't hurt at all, already mostly healed as the rock got stuck in her sole at some point but still. She messed her shoe and sock up because of a God-damned pebble. A sharp one, sure, but it was still only a pebble. Normally, she would just take her shoe off for a moment and be done with it.

But there are more mundane things, like feeling her own bladder. Holding it is thankfully not a conscious effort and if the girl hopes for anything then she hopes that this one thing will not change. Ever. But it still feels weird to set a schedule for using toilet.

More than that. On every morning and evening she needs to check her entire body for foreign objects. She began doing so after finally finding the needles she's been playing with the night before embedded in her back when she was taking a shower a day after, and noticed some red in the water under her feet. No damage done but... she just can't put her mind at ease before doing that.

At least her migraine feels the same as it was. Or maybe it has gotten stronger so that she just thinks it's the same while her reception of it is in fact dulled. Taylor finds it funny how she's relieved by the idea that her head hurts just the same as it had a couple of days ago.

A ring bell interrupts her thoughts and the teacher struggles to wrap up his lesson as most of the students are already packing up. Taylor's not really listening either but she's not in a rush, better to let most people out before going herself. Out of sight out of mind, her bullies do actively harass her but as long as she stays out of their way, the chance of anything happening is a much lesser one.

She practically slips through the door before the last few people and after glancing around in search for her tormentors, she moves to the one semi-secure location she knows of while trying to make sure she isn't followed by anyone. She doesn't want the trio to figure out her hiding spot.

With a last one wary look around, she opens the washroom's door.

Taylor glances at a dirty washroom mirror on her way to one of the stalls and grimaces, it's not that she looks different but she does look sick. Pale, more so than usual anyway, with shadows under her tired eyes. A bit skinnier too, probably caused by both using her powers and problems with keeping her meals down since triggering.

The girl looks away from her reflection. She doesn't know what is it she's expecting every time she examines herself in the glass but something inside of her makes her do so regardless. It's not like she's disappointed with her looks. She never was the prettiest girl under the sun and this new condition of hers hardly makes much of a difference in that department. A month tops and she will have a new eating regime figured out. She has discovered that her body nearly burns through calories when using her healing power.

Stupid thing. Normal healing powers don't make that an issue.

The young parahuman sits herself on a closed toilet lid after closing the stall's door and takes her lunch bag out. She shoots her food a dejected look before forcing herself to eat it. It's a strange process nowadays, and that's a good name for it. Process. She can't exactly tell how long she needs to chew and it's a chore to chew long enough to make sure it's done properly. Well it smells nice at least, a pity it's mixed with the smell of school toilets. Taylor has found a new appreciation for smell lately, not much to tell about her meals these days beside that she keeps accidentally biting on the inside of her cheeks, often hard enough to draw blood. She can only tell she's eating something thanks to her nose and ears, and if she's to describe the taste of anything she ate in the past few days? Bland. She can tell there is something in her mouth thanks to smell but that's it. There's another thing she keeps wondering about, if she won't just choke on food one day.

Well, it would be an accident. Nobody to blame. Suffocating shouldn't be painful what with her power, a bit scary maybe but... hm. What would it feel like to the people around. Hyperventilation most likely. Panic. What is it like to feel as if suffocating without it actually happening? Easy enough to check, she will just hold her breath until she starts heaving and see what happens to-

No!

No. That's... that's not even something to use in a (hypothetical) fight, having the air supply impaired while fighting is just a dumb idea all around so there's no reason to try that out. Her power is bad enough as it is, yes it gives her a very wide range of attacks, or just disturbances of which she herself is free of like the lack of capacity to feel sweat or blood on her skin, which she can channel to her (hypothetical) opponents. But all that she can do first affects her, she can immobilize her legs and that would probably do the same to her (hypothetical) enemies. Puncture the right part of a muscle and it becomes useless. Only doing so will affect both parties. No one could chase her and she couldn't run.

She needs a team if she ever joins the cape world to use her power to its best effect.

And that comes with its own share of issues. Say she gets shot, a lapse in control and her (hypothetical) team would no doubt get a backlash of it.

But it's all hypothetical. She's not going to become a cape so she doesn't need a team. Though she has to admit it feels nice to fantasize a bit. Not that there's much point in it but... well. It's just nice. Even if nothing will come of it.

Since she's not going to be a cape, there isn't really much point in her having powers. No point in triggering. And since it all has no point then why is she sitting here? She shouldn't have triggered. Yes, it was painful and wrong and- and she couldn't think straight because of it and look where that got her. Her situation's not better. Worse if anything. Because she couldn't endure some stupid pain. No, she had to trigger instead.

She snorts, slightly amused by the irony of that day.

What a joke. There, you're safe. Now go and cut yourself up.

It's like the universe is telling her something. Like herself being a coward for wanting some thugs to do her own work.

She curls in on herself as the two men surface in her memory. She killed them. They were criminals and they probably (surely) deserved it. Just don't think about it and she won't vomit again. Not worth it, Dad is worried about her being sick as it is. She needs to keep her food down, she can't feel it but knows it's coming by the way her stomach heaves and her two victims still won't leave her mind. Not their pained expressions nor their blood nor their cut up flesh. The last time in her life she had felt warmth, their blood on her hands. Their slack bodies, frozen faces. Fuck.

She abruptly stands up and lifts the toilet lid.

It takes a couple of minutes before the retching stops.

She wipes mouth with her palm and sighs. It happens when she thinks about the two she killed. Not often, she tries to keep her mind occupied but can't help but think back to them every now and again. Dad caught her once. She convinced him that it's nothing to seriously worry about and promised to eat more healthily, as she insisted it must have been something she ate.

She needs to get over this before loosing more weight. She's not sure if the issue lies with her power or trouble with keeping food down but it has to stop. Dad has other, bigger worries than his daughter and her waning health.

She can't pinpoint what is it that makes her sick like that. Maybe the killing itself. She heard that killing without being prepared for it can be traumatizing. Because she sure as hell doesn't pity her victims, not while knowing what were they doing to her. What they had surely done to many others. But it still wasn't supposed to go like that. She's the one that was supposed to have stayed there!

She spits out what bile is left in her mouth, grabs her bag and leaves the stall to clean up. She can't feel the taste of bile nor its burn but the smell is very much something she'd like to get rid of as soon as possible, and it'll linger for some time anyway. She casts a glance at herself in the mirror when she's done and sighs.

No matter. She can as well get to another class.

She is halfway to the stairs when she finds herself pushed against the wall and surrounded by a gang of girls, Sophia among them.

"Would you look at her," one of the girls starts. "Skirting around like a mouse." This again. They're not even going to acknowledge her presence in an attempt at sounding more condescending. Maybe, she doesn't know their intent but all they really sound like is pretentious children.

"A rat more like," adds another.

"Yeah, rat. She's way too ugly to be a mouse, my bad."

"What do you want?" Taylor asks tersely only to be ignored.

"Oh! Ugh! And what's that smell? Was she puking?"

"No big surprise, look at her eyes. She's taking drugs now too? Maybe we should call the police?"

"Doesn't have the guts for drugs. I say she's putting out, dirty slut." Sophia snorts at hearing that.

"No way, nobody would want a flat dyke like her." Taylor tenses at hearing that. Fucking Emma.

She clutches her bag closer to her in hope to protect it from being stolen. They won't stop until the bell and probably even after that. They'll just keep going until stumbling upon something actually hurtful.

"True enough. And she's loosing weight not gaining any," Is it that noticeable? "What is she? Puking back meals to make the best broomstick lookalike?" The girls laugh at that.

It's not even funny. Just go.

"Or she doesn't have any. Too poor to eat? What do you think?"

One of the girls turns to the others and Taylor pushes past her, using her distraction. She doesn't feel the tugs on her hoodie, the half-hearted attempts at forcing her back into the circle her bullies made. She quickly makes her way toward stairs.

The girl only manages to take two steps down before the staircase suddenly rushes towards her. She yelps in surprise and instinctively shield her head from the fall. She doesn't feel the impact, though can tell she's rolling down the stairs, her headache spiking up and the world spinning, she waits a couple of seconds before opening her eyes to find herself laying under the stairs. She blinks owlishly and takes off her glasses. Undamaged, she sighs in relief and picks herself up to a sitting position, detachedly noticing the stares pointed her way, courtesy of the curious student body.

The girl turns around and sees Sophia at the top of the stairs, grinning maliciously.

"Wow Hebert, you really must be more careful!"

Bitch.

A pang of... something, catches her attention. Has she twisted her ankle? She might have twisted her ankle. She can feel... something- in there. Probably a bad thing, even though it does feel reassuring to feel her body again. A pity it means that something must be wrong. Taylor rolls up the pant leg and her sock down, just enough to see that the skin is already bruising, and thankfully, it's only sprained, not broken or dislocated. If she broke something... bones need setting and hers would likely knit together before even getting to hospital. It would have to be broken again and would undoubtedly raise some uncomfortable questions.

Well. Her power is good for one thing. Dad won't have to worry, by the time school ends her ankle will be fine.

She tugs the sock back up, stands up and dusts herself off. Then, with a tiniest limp, continues on to the classroom.

* * *

Yes Taylor. It's important to see positives in you life. XD

I apologise for nothing though I do feel sorry about the wait. This is the 4th complete rewrite and still I'm not sure I got it just right. Oh well.

I've found that continuing the story in Worm is much harder than say LoL where I have damn near total freedom to pull off whatever I want. I don't see myself updating frequently but yes. I'm continuing this. It's just that since finishing chapter 2 I had no inspiration that could give me a cohesive story. Hence 4 total rewrites.

Also, I have troubles coming up with a name for Taylor. Penance, Backlash, Puppet and Strings are what I came up with. I'm inclined towards Penance/Strings, depends on her mood when the moment to choose name comes. Or maybe she'll be named by somebody else altogether? Hm? (And then we of course have Voodoo Doll)


	4. Anesthesia 1-4

"Taylor."

She raises her eyes from the lasagne plate in front of her to acknowledge her father.

"Hm?" She mutters with full mouth. Most of her focus still on the question of whether the meal tastes like wax or cardboard. She swallows and places her bet on wax, cardboard is made of paper and paper is sort of sweet if she remembers correctly. And has a rough texture too, yeah, definitely wax. You can't really taste wax.

"Kiddo, you know you can talk to me right?" His brow is creased but not in frustration or anger. He's worried, worried about her?

"Yeah I know, why?" She replies noncommittally, not really sure how to answer. He's said it before and it eerily reminds her of the conversation they had after the locker incident. He said something similar back then. About talking with him if she ever feels the need to, and it was tempting, oh so tempting but the tired look in his eyes and his slouched posture stopped her. Telling him anything wouldn't have helped him get better, it would've probably only made things worse. For both of them.

"Because I feel like you're trying to distance yourself." Determined, that's what he sounds like. She starts rolling the fork between her fingers and anchors her eyes on the plate. So it is about her. She's been hoping it wouldn't come to this but apparently she's done something wrong anyway. He's not supposed to worry about her.

"Why would you think so?" She looks back at him, knowing that staring at her meal won't do her any good here.

"Listen-" He pauses for a moment, carefully picking his next words. "-I know things haven't been so great between us since Mom died but... But I've noticed that you've been more, well detached lately, more than then, even. And I need to know, are you alright?"

_No._

"Yeah, mostly. Just, you know, stuff. I'll deal." It's not necessarily a lie if one thinks about it the right way.

Danny is silent for a moment before carefully (tersely) asking.

"It's... is it school?" Yes. And no. Taylor doesn't know, it's a bit of everything really.

It's not like the trio can do anything more than they've already done. Physically at least. Some things they say still cut deeper than a knife can but most of the time she just feels nothing. Annoyance maybe, exhaustion surely, it's tiring to be insulted each and every day no matter how menial or nonsensical the insults are. It's tiring to have her work destroyed or stolen and the teachers do nothing about it even when they see the act.

And yes it keeps wearing the bullied girl down, day by day. But it's not the bullying itself that she can't deal with. It's that because of it she doesn't have much to look forward to.

It doesn't feel like there is much point in struggling every day, just to be put down by the trio anyway. It's all doomed from start to finish, they make sure of it. When starting high school she had a plan of sorts. Graduate Winslow, get into college, find a decent enough job and go from there. Not that much to ask of her life and it is still too much apparently. First with her mother's death and then Emma's betrayal. But she still tried nonetheless.

But really, it just isn't working. First of, she has to graduate from Winslow, which the Trio makes sure will be a struggle each day. The teachers know what's going on, they give her more time when she doesn't turn in her assignments, but don't and won't do anything more than that. She doesn't have any friends to turn to either, everyone is scared away by the perspective of being picked on by bullies. Taylor can't find it in herself to blame them for that to be perfectly honest. She likes to think she wouldn't be like that if the situation was in reverse but really. She doesn't trust herself enough to be sure.

But even assuming that she does graduate. Then what? It's rather unlikely for her to get into college with her high school diploma if her marks stay as they are now. And they will, it doesn't matter how much effort she puts into her work if she can't show its effects. So that's a no go,

She'd have to find work she supposes, not that bad in on itself, in different times, on a different earth, one without Endbringers and cities slipping away from any semblance of control. There are scores upon scores of people better qualified for just about everything and not only in Brockton Bay, though here it's a bigger problem than in some other cities. She doesn't really have any skills that nobody else...

Two bloodied bodies flash behind her eyes.

She switches all her attention to the plate in front of her, only to quickly look away when her eyes land on all the red on it. God, she's going to throw up again if she doesn't get it together.

She puts her fork down and slides the plate away, making effort not to look at its content.

"Taylor, please. I'm worried about you." She knows. "And I want to help but I can't if you won't tell me how." She knows that too. But if she tells him, what will it change beside making him feel angry and worthless. That he'd realize that all his dreams for her are nothing but a mirage. Worse yet, Taylor isn't sure if she could stop talking once she started, and there are things that she knows he won't be able to handle. Like her trigger. Like her power. Like Emma. Like Teachers and students and time lost and her thoughts and her guilt and his own and his faults and the dead and the numb and Mom and her plan and- and-

She realizes he's moved from his seat when her balance is disturbed by his embrace. She realizes she breathing way too quickly and that he's talking to her. But she's not crying. Good. Progress.

"Hush- hush it's okay. It's alright I got you." She lets him, she can't feel his embrace but she does feel a bit better for knowing that it's there regardless.

They stay like that for a couple of minutes without any more words between them. Dad patiently waiting for her to speak, or just give him a sign that she's better, while she's focusing on calming her breathing. Eventually, the girl starts squirming out of the hug and he lets go to sit beside her, still waiting though visibly battling with himself to do so.

"I..." she begins at last. "You don't need to worry. You've got enough on your plate and I- I'm figuring things out okay?"

"Kiddo, it's a father's job to worry about his daughter. I can't just ignore it when you're down, I want to help you." But he can't, Taylor knows. "And you're the most important thing in my life, I would do anything for you, and when I see you hurt I..." he trails off and his features morph into a scowl. "Don't ever think there is anything more important to me than you are. And- and I'm sorry I don't tell you this nearly often enough." He grabs her hand and gives it what he has probably intended to be a reassuring squeeze.

She looks down to their joined hands, not quite trusting herself to keep it together if she keeps looking into her father's eyes. It used to be different for him, them. He did always say that she and Mom were the most important people in his life. But ever since- the accident... it's just been so different. He keeps saying that it's because she's so important to him but he used to live for something more than her. He used to smile. Mom's death hit them both, and both of them hard, but he's taking it as if he isn't allowed to be happy anymore. She understands the feeling, she still feels as if she hasn't yet been mourning long enough.

She doesn't help much in that matter. She doesn't want to add her own issues to his plate but apparently she's not trying hard enough for her troubles not to show. The girl pulls her hands away, not wanting to be constantly reminded of how she can't feel them.

"I'm sorry."

"No- Taylor, listen. You don't have anything to be sorry about." He's lying of course. To make her feel better about not being able to keep her own life afloat. She forces a smile to her face nonetheless. No point in making him worry more than she does anyway.

"Yeah, okay. I... I'll try okay?" He smiles too, though his seems more natural than her own.

"That's all I can ask for."

The rest of the dinner is an awkward affair. Extremely so as they finish their nearly cold meals, Dad tries to make small talk but Taylor can't really get into it. Her mind focused on other things. Her father is lying for her benefit, of that she is sure of. She can see the worry clearly etched on his face in spite of the smiling facade he's trying to keep up.

She's washing the dishes when the phone rings and Dad goes to pick it up. She has to admit that her power is handy when it comes to home tasks, no more disgusting trash at the bottom of a sink that's just waiting to ruin her day. Or well, it's still there, just not making its presence known. Though she has to be more careful when handling knives these days, wouldn't do for her to chop of her fingertip or-

"God damn it!" _Dad?_

Taylor gently puts the oven-pan away, not fully trusting her coordination quite yet, before wiping her hands on the trousers and moving to where her father is talking. He's angry, pacing in front of the phone and visibly barely restraining himself from throwing the handle at the wall. He abruptly stops when he notices her and it is as if his anger deflates. He cringes and turns away.

"Alright listen, I'll be there soon. Yeah. See you there." He puts the handle away and sighs tiredly.

"What happened?"

"I need to go to the docks. There... there's been a shooting and, well. I've really gotta deal with this, and now. I'm sorry for leaving like that but I have to."

"Shooting? Dad what's happening?" She asks as he's already moving to change to leave. She needs to know, he can't just drop something like this on her and just go without any explanation!

"Gang violence, it's nothing you have to worry about, I'll be fine. Promise."

Gangs? In the docks? Organized crime had never moved in there because quite frankly, there are better areas to control and ever since Brockton Bay became what it is today, there's been nothing worthy of notion there. Are they so desperate to break the stalemate that even such a hole as that will be pulled into the conflict?

They don't say anything as Danny finishes dressing himself.

Just as he's about to leave he turns around and moves in to hug her. His daughter doesn't return it right away but after a moment of hesitation clumsily does so. The first time she has since triggering. It's just as strange as she's thought it would be, numb and stiff, Taylor isn't exactly sure what to do with her hands but go through practiced motions, it just doesn't feel natural, not bad, mind. Just not how it used to be.

"See you later kid."

"Yeah. Later Dad."

They stay like that for a moment longer before the man gently steps away, and without more words, walks out the door.

She stands in place for a minute after he's left, not sure what to do with herself, before retreating to her room. Deciding to lay on her bed, more because she knows she needs to rest rather than because she wants to. She can try sleeping but it isn't likely to come what with her headache. It takes more time to rest these days, since she can't have proper, deep sleep, she has to compensate by simply resting. She doesn't want to faint again, well, not when it's unexpected at least. The only moments she can have something close to sleep is when she's exhausted enough to pass out rather than fall asleep, the girl still needs to figure it out but she's relatively sure she can work out a pattern of exercise that will reliably shut her body but give her enough time to get to bed first.

Her powers might be a bit... morbid. But Taylor can't deny that she enjoys figuring out how they work. And how to work around them, or maybe it's just that it's a reward in on itself when she doesn't cut her fingers along with bread. Doesn't take much more than simply not getting distracted but it still feels like a step forward.

A wry smile spreads on her lips without her being aware of it. Not cutting fingers when cooking... not something one's normally proud of but honestly, there isn't much of normal in her situation so she'll take what she can.

Regardless, she can try and catch some rest tonight, running some miles should do the trick as long as she doesn't overdo it again, there has to be some trick to breathing that she's unaware of, oh she can push any distance as long as she doesn't fall over from the numbed exhaustion, but she gets stuck with a nasty cough afterwards for a couple of hours, maybe it's just because she's simply not fit. At all. She can change that though, and quickly, since muscles build after being torn during training and since she can (relatively) safely ignore her limits. Probably.

She can, but does she want to? She hadn't been up to much at all before triggering, there wasn't anything to do without friends, nor point in trying to get better scores, she could look outside but it seemed so pointless, if she can't keep her life in one piece in the first place, what makes her think she could have tried again. There was just... nothing. So why not go all the way?

She props herself on elbows and pulls her blouse and shirt up to look at the thickly scarred stomach, feeling a little queasy just by remembering how it looked before healing up enough to not show her insides, and those haven't avoided being damaged either. She's curious what would have happened if her assailants messed up an artery too. Would she live through that? Possibly, now, she's not so sure about back then. An artery is like... what? Thirty seconds before passing out? In which time, by her estimation, she would heal as if six hours have passed, and since normal wounds take minutes to stop bleeding it should be enough to not bleed out. Which, she has to admit, is really cool.

Point is, no matter how screwed up her power is. It is an out, of sorts. She's been thinking it over for the last couple of days, since the thoughts of escape began resurfacing in her mind when the shock from from becoming a parahuman has finally died down. It's not all bad, her power. The healing at least is nice, if taxing on her body reserves as her experiments have shown. When her body isn't abundant in energy it just cannibalizes itself in order to heal her wounds as a priority. Taylor can work with that, it's not like she actually feels hungry nowadays, at least not after but a few days of not eating as Taylor has found. But for now, simply knowing that she has to eat more is enough to deal with the issue.

And well, scars. A pity but really, complaining about the ability to heal from normally lethal wounds is just bratty. Even if it is quite weak in comparison to damn near every other healing factor out there.

That she can transfer her own bodily sensations is also a neat thing. Much less so when confronted with the fact that in a fight she'd have to harm herself to utilize it, but still. Every hit she would take will carry over to her enemy for as long as she wills it. It's funny. That she got a power which makes anyone who hurts her feel everything she would. That is if she still could feel.

That one is... not so great. No. That's not the wording she should use.

It fucking sucks.

She understands why it is useful, with her sensory swap she can incapacitate nearly anyone by simply walking with something pointy stuck in her legs. The pain alone should be enough to force any non-trained combatant to his knees. Ever tried walking with scissors in your calf? She has. And even with her barely existent pain reception it is still hard to do, simply because of having something interfere with muscle movement. Really, it's enough to stick in something small like a needle to have most people trip over themselves.

She has only tried that once. It was funny enough to watch but she refuses to do this for amusement. It was all for the purpose of testing, honest!

Then again, proper Brutes can withstand both pain and damage, without the impairment in form of loosing the ability to feel anything but pain. Well, that's... not completely true. Anything but extremes she should say. She had finally managed to gather enough courage to check, and was floored with relief when she found out that no. Pain is not the only thing she has left in regards to sensations. Though she did pay for that particular discovery with a mind splitting headache. She's not sure she was controlling that one, good thing Dad wasn't home.

Still, even if it is useful (maybe even necessary with her powers), it doesn't mean she has to appreciate being nearly cut off from feeling her own body.

The girl huffs and tugs the clothes back over her stomach, then lets herself fall back onto bed. It doesn't matter, she's been dealt a new hand in her life and she must now decide how to proceed with it. Cutting it short will always remain an easily available option, no matter what happens. And to be honest, Taylor is curious about her power. She may be a glorified voodoo doll, with all it entails but she can't help but wonder what if.

What if she can be a cape?

What if she can find something to live for?

What if she can make a difference?

Does she want to?

Her thoughts go back to her father and the shootout he mentioned. If the gangs are moving into the docks then she could do something about that to make his life a bit easier for once. The idea is not... unappealing. If only because it gives her otherwise bleak life a purpose. And it is something she can find the will to do.

Now don't get her wrong, she believes in justice and all, but to be perfectly honest. She just can't find it in herself to care about some distant idea of upholding law and order as much as she cares for her own father. Helping him is something tangible, something the effects of she might see. Unlike the never ending crusade against villainy.

The teenager turns her head towards her alarm clock, she still has time to get to library should she decide to actually get up. She turns away and stares at the ceiling for some time, weighting pros and cons of that idea. She could do it tomorrow, or any day after really, then again, she probably won't be any more motivated to go than she is right now, less even, when her mind starts finding reasons not to do a thing without her even thinking about it.

In the end it isn't a question of why as much as why not. Even if she fails, what does it matter?

It's something to do at least.

* * *

Aaand this was a bitch to write. I got into Life is Strange fandom in the meanwhile and let me tell you, writing 3 stories at once really is a wonderously fucked up idea.

Thank you, to everyone who's helping me write this. You know who you are.

ALSO, I've changed Drama tag to Angst as it's... well, hella angsty. I might go back to Drama further in the future but it would be inaccurate to use at this moment.


	5. Anesthesia 1-5

Out of many things that heroes say in their interviews, Taylor can't remember ever hearing them talking about how stupid they might have felt during their first night out. Perhaps it's because they had a better way of moving about than something so mundane as walking the streets. Or perhaps it's that they had costumes that made them look like part of cape trade instead of what she managed to scrape together from her meager funds.

Namely, a pair of corrective ski goggles, cloth mask, baton, pepper spray and a kitchen knife, just in case. She wanted a bullet vest too but that's really just outside of her capabilities.

Besides, making a costume feels somewhat redundant when she takes into consideration that first off, she's not in it for the long run. And second, that it would probably be a waste of time and effort, she fully expects to ruin her clothes beyond any hope of repair by the end of the week. Not that she plans to, but given her luck she doesn't expect anything else.

In all honesty, she might sooner be taken for another thug rather than a vigilante in this get-up. Doesn't matter, its only purpose is protecting her identity and that it will do just fine.

The docks seem almost deserted at this time of night, just passing 1am she's been out for almost three hours already, well, two if she doesn't count the time it took her to get to her destination. Two hours now that she's been wandering more or less aimlessly from one shady alley to another 24-hour store in search of trouble, so far? Nothing beside strange looks spared her way by occasional passers-by.

Not as glamorous as she'd always thought it would be. Boring, if anything. Heroes don't say that in the interviews either. Stupid heroes, they should really think about posting a sheet online with tips for newbies or something like that. And the first thing on it, saying in big, fat, red letters should be – get a good sleep before going on patrol or-

She barely catches herself when the ground suddenly rushes toward her. The girl shoots the pavement crack she tripped over a menacing look from behind her mask.

Or at least a coffee for insomniacs like her. Taylor's unsure whether she's just still getting used to replacing proper sleep with restless naps or if she must get used to never being fully rested again. Either way, she should have taken some money with her to buy a cup. Or two. She likes coffee, now more than ever despite no longer being able to truly taste it, the aroma is nice, strong. And she doesn't have to wait for it to cool down much, just long enough not do do any permanent damage to her tongue while drinking. Not that she'd know, Taylor just waits a minute after making a cup before gulping it down. The prickling that hot liquid causes on her tongue is kind of nice too.

She somehow can't find it in herself to care about the caffeine dependency she's probably working up with her newly found appetite for it. She's been trying to nap a bit in classes but the teachers won't let her, useless as usual, it's not like they'll have to deal with her for very long so can't they give her a break?

She stops in place and yawns, coughing right thereafter and scowling as her headache spikes up. She detachedly wonders if she will have caught a cold by morning. Probably, her body isn't in the best of shapes right now and the temperatures will be low for at least another month. She sniffs experimentally, nothing just yet judging by the sound. She looks up at the street lamp she's under and yawns again. Should she just call it a night? With how tired she is by now she might just be able to pass out till the very morning.

Ah screw it, she'll just come again tomo-

The world blacks out for a moment and when it comes back into focus, Taylor sees that she is much closer to the ground than she was just a second ago. She blinks owlishly and twists onto her back to see a man in red and green, holding a baseball bat, shit, he must have hit her in the back since she's still conscious. Is he alone? No, there are others coming from further behind, four, five of them in total, all in ABB colors. Her breath quickens, and her whole body goes rigid.

The girl's eyes snap to the bat her assailant has just started playing with.

He opens his mouth but she doesn't hear him, she doesn't hear him at all over the rush of blood in hear ears and her own mute screams from what seems like a whole different life. And the laugh, and then screams, not of her own. Oh fuck!

The girl throws herself back and hurriedly scrambles to her feet as the man takes another swing at her, right as the others catch up to them, mild confusion visible on their faces at seeing her on her own feet. No kidding, were it not for her powers she'd probably be writhing on the ground in pain right now. At their mercy, for them to do whatever they wanted- she violently shakes her head, not now! She has to get her shit together.

How stupid can she be! First to let herself be ambushed and then to space out like that! If that's a sign of things to come then there won't be many more of those nights in her future.

Taylor backs away from the criminals, warily eyeing the knives in their hands and clamping down hard on her memories, they're not bloodied, they're not those, not yet, and won't be. That they have knives should actually work to her advantage, she has range on them and if they do manage to cut her... if it comes to that she can use it against them.

She doesn't fake her fear as the gangsters form a half-circle around her. She doesn't want them to get her, she doesn't want the repeat of the last time- and yet it feels just the same, the men trapping her, circling her like prey, it's different now. She knows, she has her powers now but somehow it doesn't feel different at all. Even if the fight goes as she hopes to, they can still hurt her, probably not bad enough for her healing not to manage but maybe just enough to take her out, and then... then she'll just be another statistic to encourage new parahumans to sign up with the Protectorate.

"What? Not gonna cry for help?" She clenches her fists at the jeer. If anyone's going to scream tonight it will be him.

Not caring for the following insults, she chances a glance behind her to see that they're herding her towards a back alley, she almost lashes out right there and then, all her instincts screaming at her to run. But no, she's stronger than that, stronger than a stupid memory she will soon enough forget and overcome, she's stronger now and in the cramped space of the alley she'll have them all in her sight, not having to use her power on everyone in her range, some one hundred feet, she'd affect half the block so yeah, good for people. Unfortunately, it also means she won't have the freedom to move around her foes as easily as she'd like to but she can deal with that. They're just thugs, they can't hurt her, not really.

Back alley it is.

She spins around and bolts to the alley, she doesn't look back but if the laugh she hears tells her anything, it's that the ABB aren't in any rush to chase her. Must be either a dead end or there are more people around the corner. Damn, no, she won't risk running into more. She stops and glances back at the gangbangers, they're not even really chasing her. Okay, okay. This is far enough anyway.

Taylor's hands are a bit shaky as she reaches for the pepper spray in her sweatshirt's pocket. Shit, calm down, it's fine, all's fine, as long as she can take the damn cap off-why did she buy one with this crap in the first place!?

There! Off! She spares one last look at the approaching men, who seem amused to see the small can in the girl's hand. And yes, it wouldn't be enough to defend herself against five men.

Whatever, she never intended to use it on them in the first place.

She pulls down her goggles with one hand and sprays herself directly into the eyes before pulling the goggles back on. She coughs when the stink hits her nose, making her gag, but it's a couple of seconds before the tears come along with the sting, it feels more like watered down shampoo than pepper but if she feels it at all then she can only imagine what will it be like for everyone else.

She looks at the thugs, now just a couple of steps away from her but standing in place, bewildered, Taylor can't really fault them, if she saw someone treating herself to a face full of pepper spray she'd be taken aback too. But no time for thinking, she has work to do.

It's on the second try that she manages to blindly grab the baton from the back of her pants, her cold and shaking hands refusing to work properly, she then focuses on the men in front of her.

The parahuman doesn't bother giving them anything specific, she simply uses her power to make them feel everything she should, the gas, the migraine, every little ache in her body. Along with the things she herself can't feel. Like her tired muscles, like the tension in them, like the bruise that must be forming on her back right now, the wound itself will heal in a matter of minutes but the bruise will stay as long as bruises tend to, as Taylor's tests found, it's just blood after all. And then a myriad of other sensations too miniscule to take note of.

The effects are instantaneous. All five of her assailants shout out in sudden pain, all five of them scrunch their eyes shut, trying in vain to stop the sensation of thousands of needles biting into their eyeballs. Three of them even dropping their weapons to wipe their eyes or clutch their heads. But the incoherent noise quickly stops to be followed by curses a moment after, some of them English, most not.

Taylor takes a quick look behind her to make sure nobody's about to strike her from behind before refocusing on the thugs, ugh, she has trouble with seeing of her own, the tears welling up in her eyes being the cause. Better finish this quickly, before the men get some sort of bearing back, or somehow manage to pick up their weapons, even blind they can still hit her if they're lucky. Though right now it seems like they'll sooner hit each other judging by the way the one with the bat is wildly swinging it around whilst trying to move towards her (which he actually isn't), he scores a hit yeah, but it's on one of his own. Taylor however is too tense to appreciate the sight of the criminals blindly and loudly either trying to flee or find her.

It's not why she's here, not to play with fire. She puts the spray back inside her pocket and forces herself to cautiously approach the spectacle in front of her, baton in hand and ready to strike.

It's surprisingly easy to take them all out, one by one, she stalks over to them while keeping the rest in her sight, maintaining her power's grip on them. One by one she takes them out with strikes to the back of their heads, more than one at times, she doesn't exactly know how to knock someone out with just one strike after all and she won't have them awake. She's not about to make a stupid mistake for the second time tonight.

The last standing gangbanger is panicking by the time she reaches him, he blindly throws his knife in her footsteps' direction, and while it does reach her it only cuts the material of her sleeve. The throw being more of a desperate last attempt at buying some time before trying to run (in the wrong direction too). He's out cold a moment later.

Taylor only relaxes enough to put away her baton once she confirms that all five men are still in a similar state and that nobody else is coming. She heavily breaths out and pulls her goggles down again to furiously wipe at her eyes.

There, she's done it. She took five men on and took them out. She was ambushed and she still won. She's not defenseless, not like the last time, her choice though might it have been. So why is she feeling so faint, as if she's about to vomit?

She pulls her mask up, allowing herself to breathe more easily and calm her ragged nerves. It takes a minute but she manages not to throw up, the biting stink of pepper on her mask can't be helping. Not her best idea, the pepper spray, effective- sure but sticking pins into soles of her feet would do the job too, and with nowhere near the amount of side-effects.

And she can't take her mask off right now, she'll have to deal with it until she leaves the docks, might as well throw the thing away too, washing it is more trouble than it's worth by now, if she can manage to wash the smell off at all. She sniffs.

Yeah, her nose is stuffing up by the sound of it. So there is that too, and she didn't take tissues with her. Come to think of it, she should probably start carrying a bag with bandages and the like, and tissues, and maybe a thermos with coffee to keep herself somewhat awake.

And duct tape. She forgot to take duct tape, or any sort of restraints actually. Tape would be the best though, tying knots is not her thing.

Seems like she'll just have to hope someone comes before these guys wake up. Speaking of which...

She kneels beside one of the men, cringing when she sees the blood leaking from cracked skin on his forehead and hurriedly focusing her gaze on everything but that. After a moment of though, the girl blows her nose into her hands, ugh, bleh, she **is** getting sick, her snot looks like dissolved gak or something. She hurriedly wipes her hands on the ground and then on the gangbanger's hoodie, looks clean enough to use for that at least.

She then stuffs a hand into his right pocket, he wouldn't be keeping stuff like syringes in a pocket right? Right. Hopefully. When she's relatively sure she should have grabbed the bottom, she pulls, turning the pocket inside out and spilling its contents onto ground, yep. There, a phone. She's not sure about having her own, might be her own memories, might be Dad's. Either way, she figures she can just use a phone she's sure to find on the criminals she takes out. Phone booths have become increasingly sparse in the recent years, barely anybody uses them anymore. There are like... four in the docks that she knows of. A pain in the back to look for those.

The girl blinks in surprise when she slides the phone open and finds a picture of pink orchids set as a wallpaper, she half-expected it to be a half-naked woman or something alongside these lines, it's almost disappointing really. It takes her a while to figure out how to open up the messages tab after such a long disuse of mobiles, she's hoping to find some lead to follow, but is let down after seeing the messages written in a different alphabet. Right, ABB, what was she expecting.

A scowl forms on her face as she struggles to input 911 on the small keyboard. First she can no longer feel her fingers and now they're barely responsive to boot (from cold if she were to guess). Stupid phones.

Taylor puts the phone in the crook of her neck and grabs its owner by his legs to drag him out of the alley and onto the street's sidewalk. It's just a couple of seconds before a man's voice answers her call.

"911. What's your emergency?

"I'm-" she hems, her throat refusing to let a sound through. "I want to report an attempted assault sir.," she rasps out.

"Are you injured miss?" Not really, nothing that will stick into the next hour. She swallows and this time her voice sounds a bit more normal.

"No, no sir I'm not, uh, the people that attacked me are though."

"How injured are they?"

"Not... that bad, concussions. Maybe. I mean I don't know for sure."

"Please tell me miss, was there any parahuman involvement?" She hesitates.

Should she tell? She doesn't want the PRT here. It's just regular gangsters she took on. Still, it's not like the police won't figure out what happened once they take them in. Or even before if she stays for them to see her.

"Yes."

"Is the parahuman still there?"

"..."

"Miss?"

"No." There won't be when they come.

There's a moment of pause, just short of two seconds but enough to put Taylor at edge.

"Please tell me your location and how many men are we talking about?"

"Uh... one second." Taylor drops the man she's been moving when she steps out of the back alley, biting her lip- she looks around to check for the street's name. "I'm at docks, Cherry street and it's five men."

"Alright miss we're dispatching forces, can you identify the parahuman involved?"

"No." Which is true, she doesn't have a cape name after all.

"Are there any other-" Taylor grabs the phone again and cuts the call. They've sent someone and she doesn't have time for this if she wants to avoid the police. She walks back toward the assault scene and carelessly throws the phone away.

"Let's just drag another one and leg it," she murmurs to herself as she pulls the mask back over her mouth. It should take no time at all for a patrol to arrive on Tuesday night, no traffic and all. So the gangsters shouldn't wake up before the police comes and hopefully takes them in. Hopefully, because she's not in the mood to testify and that leaves the cops without a witness.

She really hopes they'll be jailed. It would suck if the thugs were just let free but she doesn't feel ready to debut, at all- truth be told. She just wants the docks cleared of ABB and that's it. And anyway, there should be enough signs of a fight to at least warrant a closer look, the knives, a freaking baseball bat being carried around at night by an obvious gangster? Still...

She grabs the second man by his legs and starts pulling, making every effort not to look at his bruised, swelling face.

She read a discussion on the very issue once. Why won't capes just swoop in and simply arrest every gang member they find. Turns out they can't arrest someone without them committing a crime or having a warrant (then determining the crime, and dealing with lawsuits if they can't find any dirt), which does make sense half the time and doesn't the other half. On one hand, it would be an impossible mess to avoid false accusations, on the other, sometimes it's glaringly obvious that someone's a criminal, just without any crime to their file.

And sometimes, it's not as obvious.

Intellectually, she understands the reasoning behind this. But still can't help but feel bitter resentment towards it, some people are just too good at hiding the evidence. It's ironic how as a white girl she can feel safer in her E88 controlled neighborhood than in a 'gang free' territory. Small wonder, the local nazis have more capes than the Protectorate and Wards both. And they **HATE** intrusions into 'their' ground.

The young cape drags the unconscious thug under a lantern and props him by it, making sure he's easily visible. Okay, two people should be a sign enough for the policemen that this is what they've been called to.

She wipes at her eyes again and pulls on the goggles, it's a bother but she can barely see without the corrective glass anyway. Maybe contact lenses would be better? It's not like she'll feel them and she won't have to worry about cracking the goggle's glass. She'd only have to make sure she doesn't gouge her eyes out and... well if that happens then she probably won't have much of anything to worry about anymore. She'd look weird without her glasses though.

Lenses just for the nightly outings then? Seems like a good idea, ...she should have bought lenses and normal goggles in the first place. She had a couple dollars left after getting her 'costume' together but she drowned most it in coffee, during and after school.

How does the spoils system work again? She can't remember if the site she checked mentioned wallets as green-lighted for taking. Better not risk it for now, she doesn't want theft added to her name. She looks at the bat lying on the ground further in the alley. Looks solid, longer than her own, though hardly easy to hide under a sweatshirt. Pity it might be evidence, and she doesn't quite trust the places the knives might have been privy to, although... she crouches beside the street light and slowly (as she can't get her hands to calm down) starts checking the pockets of the criminal propped by it. Nothing in the outside pockets- Taylor zips the jacket open, bingo!

She draws a small butterfly knife from one of the inside pockets and clumsily opens it. Seems in good shape, no strange sounds, she'll drop it in boiling water back home just in case, hopefully it won't damage it but really, she just doesn't trust it's not somehow contaminated.

And she can barely see through the tears again. Great. She'll deal with that when she's a mile or so away, it's not like she's keeping the mask so no need to care for the-

"Freeze!" She jumps in surprise, the knife falling out of her stiff hands and clattering on the pavement. Her arms start outright trembling and while she can't feel it, she can bet that her heart is going crazy. "Hands on your head and turn around!" She gulps, considering her options. Well nothing's happened to her yet... that she felt. And she's never heard of criminals shouting 'freeze' to anyone (then again it might just be her), ah hell, she'll at least see what she's dealing with.

As told, she puts her hands behind her head and slowly turns around.

The girl gasps softly as she sees the gun in the other cape's hands.

* * *

I will never stop~

Yes, the updates are few and far between but they happen, and hey, give a round of applause to HellKing666, I like to think I can spot the bad stuff in my writing on my own but you never really know :P

Hope you enjoyed Taylor's first night out!


	6. Anesthesia 1-6

Miss Militia's eyes narrow when she sees the quivering thug turn around, she can't be older than 17 given her body shape. She's always hated it, arresting children. Half the time they're just stupidly looking for excitement and most of the other half they're either tricked or forced into gangs. Rarely are there kids who really think about it when they join one. Or even just go solo, which is arguably even worse since those are the ones who most often end up dead in a dumpster or a dirty side alley. It isn't a good thing, starting adult life from juvy. Still, more often than not it's either that or remaining in a gang and that usually means either early death or later arrest and harsher sentence.

It's what she has to keep telling herself every time she catches kids committing a crime. She still hates it.

She casts a glance at the small knife lying on the ground. The girl looked to be playing with it more than trying to harm the unconscious man (ABB, no question here), though she can't tell for sure at such far a distance, but that she's wearing a mask is a bad sign. God, she hopes the kid hasn't done anything stupid.

She normally wouldn't be called to a case like this but since she was in the general area, dispatch figured she might as well check the site where an emergency call involving a parahuman and an assaulted girl was abruptly cut off. Is this the girl?

A silent gasp can be heard from the teenager when she sees the hero.

"M-Miss Militia!" she shakily squeaks out, nervous wreck to the woman's ears, but some of the tension bleeds out from her posture and it's not a voice of someone who's just committed a crime and is afraid of punishment. It's not relieved, not exactly but it does remind her of something.

Her fans, to be specific.

Maybe for once this won't be as bad as it seemed at first. Criminals usually adore villains, not heroes.

She lowers the taser gun a bit to appear less threatening before speaking.

"Are you the one who called this in?" The girl hesitates a moment before nodding energetically, Hannah sighs. "I'm sorry, I need you to say it."

"Yes, I called this in, I... yeah." Her voice is still cracking a bit, maybe she's just embarrassed to speak like that, no matter. There is still an issue to be resolved here.

"Why are you wearing a mask?" There are but a few kinds of people that wear a mask at around 1:30am, only one reason for it being anything good.

The girl looks away and towards the men on the ground, Hannah can see her literally drawing in on herself, as if trying to make herself disappear. Wouldn't be that hard with how thin she is. She'd have to see more of her skin to be sure but she looks as if recovering from malnutrition.

"I'm a parahuman. I was... it's my first night and they- that's why the mask." A parahuman?

Hannah knows better than to judge solely based on appearance but this girl really doesn't look the part. Many (most) new capes have to scrape together a costume without either knowing how to or without having sufficient funds for it. There is also the third kind. One that gives up on making a costume for themselves altogether, those people however, are very rare. Usually, a new cape, hero or villain, will make every effort to at least be recognizable as one. The girl here? She looks to have simply thrown on a balaclava and goggles before going out. As if she either doesn't care or can't be bothered to wear a costume. A body altering power? An uncaring sociopath? (unlikely, gauging by her nervous behavior), or just a really lazy teen? It would be strange though, teens are usually giddy to make themselves a costume.

This one would have to be a new cape too. Trigger events are not that rare but they're not exactly common either. And it's a troubling thought since they still haven't heard of the cape from two weeks backs, could it be her? Her behavior doesn't point to her attacking a hundred people on a whim, then again. Violent triggers happen quite often and Piggot suspects it was one.

Her assessment is short but with each second she can see the girl literally coiling in on herself. Fight or flight instinct at its finest, she doesn't want to be here, the woman can easily tell. If not thanks to her body language then thanks to the fact the caller said there isn't a parahuman on scene any longer. Issue with authorities? Only pretending to be a hero? Maybe she's not a cape at all, and maybe she's just insecure and shy and she simply wishes to leave. It's troubling that she lied but the hero doesn't plan to push the issue right now, she looks half ready to bolt as it is and given the two grown men on the ground she's willing to believe this girl may be a cape.

The hero knows she likes to see the best in people, but it's more than that, she can handle a new, young and inexperienced cape unless she's the next coming of Alexandria, and a little bit of trust can go a long way, especially with kids, doubly so with super-powered kids.

Miss Militia lowers the pistol-shaped taser completely, and when the girl's only reaction is slightly straightening out, she puts it back into holster, which she doesn't however secure. A little bit of trust, not foolishly believing in everything someone says, it's a first rule that's hammered into any law enforcer's head, to never trust completely, not that she had ever needed to be taught that.

"Alright then, sorry about this but you can never know for sure. Always be on your guard when dealing with unknown, saved my skin more than once, might save yours too." She waits a moment for a reply but the vigilante doesn't even take her hands off her head. "You okay? Dispatch said the ones hurt are gangsters but..." But she's already lied once.

"Yeah I'm not hurt, uh... can I move?" The hero chuckles warmly at the uneasy question. It is a valid one though, too many people die because of stressed and trigger happy policemen.

"Yes you can, good of you to ask, safer." The girl lets her hands down and glances at the blade on the ground. Hm. "Do you mind if I come closer? I need to check on these guys." She points at the two men on the ground. She doesn't really need to ask but given how skittish the younger cape seems, it's best to do so. Establishing cooperation instead of domination.

"Sure." Unhurriedly, as to not startle the jumpy vigilante Miss Militia walks towards the scene, closely watching the teen as she picks up the knife she dropped before, and starts idly playing with it, a nervous tick perhaps, to help her get her nerves under control.

"Is this your knife?" The girl looks up sharply when asked.

"Um- no, it's his." She points with the currently opened blade at the gangster under the street light. It takes Miss Militia some effort but she manages not to wince when she sees the thug's battered face, she hopes the girl is not a Shadow Stalker in sheep's skin. But she shouldn't assume, it's her first night out after all, the Wards, with all their training, still had problems with efficient takedowns on their first patrols too."Actually... how does the spoils system work? Can I take it?"

The woman stops by the girl, close- yet still at a safe distance. She sniffs, is it- is that pepper spray she smells? And from this close she can see that the other cape's mask is soaked with something, particularly around the goggles, had she been sprayed?

"You really shouldn't. Taking things off the beaten gangsters still qualifies as theft." Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "And just between you and me? Switchblades are better. And we heroes get to carry them too." She adds with a wink and the girl snorts, her set shoulders relaxing. "Just remember not to have them on you in your civilian identity. Why the knife anyway?" It's unnerving that she'd want a weapon like that on herself, she's already armed with a baton of sorts as she'd seen with the teen's back turned. Shadow Stalker's not allowed sharp bolts for a reason.

"They work well with my powers I guess," she says, strangely somber. Miss Militia squashes down the though of another cape whose power works well with blades. "I'll just leave this here then." She folds the knife and quickly approaches the ABB to put it back where she presumably found it. It doesn't escape Hannah's notice how she seems to avoid looking at the man's face. It's a pity she can't see her face, emotions on it would help the older cape determine quite a lot about this girl.

She waits until the teen moves away from the body, back to her safe zone, before she checks the man's life signals, all there, not even any fractured bones, good. The kid wasn't purposely trying to break his face. She moves to the second one before asking.

"So, what's your name and power. If you don't mind sharing that is." A glance at the younger cape shows her very clearly that she might in fact mind. "You don't have to say if you don't want to." As much as she'd like to know who she's dealing with, she can't force her to say anything, nor does she want to.

"I don't have a name yet. I was thinking about some but... I don't know, I'm not planning to stay in this cape business anyway." Ah, that would explain the 'costume', or rather its lack. But it's still rather strange, it's the exact opposite with most parahumans.

"Can I ask why?" she ventures as she stands up from the second ABB. "The Protectorate could help you with your powers if you'd like help- are the rest there?" She asks while pointing at the dark alley's entrance.

"Yeah they're there. And it's a problem with my powers, I don't..." She stops speaking, crossing her arms, apparently having an internal debate. Miss Militia waits patiently, she should be checking on the other criminals but really, the girl here is just more important.

The younger cape starts wringing her hands . Shit, it's one of those powers isn't it?

"I can make people feel what I should feel," she quietly explains.

It takes a second but when it clicks in Hannah's mind, she instantly forgets about the gangsters she's supposed to check on. Her thoughts going back to the teen's comment about knives.

Oh.

She goes pale beneath her scarf.

For the longest of moments, she says nothing. Because what should she say? What can she say to this, to a child basically admitting that she might be hurting herself to use her powers. And what other way would she use them? To be what? Some fetish whore?

She briefly contemplates giving the girl a hug. She obviously needs it, but even so Hannah's almost sure it would just scare her away, if her meticulous keeping of distance between them is any tell.

"I understand." Miss Militia finally answers, why would one become a hero with a power like that? No, forget the part about being a cape, how did she come to the conclusion that it's acceptable to use her power like that in the first place? The possibilities make her stomach cramp. "Listen, if you ever need help, if something- anything bad happens, just come to us alright? We'll help you."

The girl gives her a small nod as an answer.

Make people feel what she does... should she ask? Can she afford not to? Obviously, the girl needs help, whether she realizes it or not.

"I have to ask you something." She doesn't need to see the wary expression on her face to know the teen is wearing it underneath the mask, her posture says it all. "There's been a big incident two weeks ago where people were affected by a power that made them feel pain." She doesn't really need to finish her question, the way the kid's body just went from tense to rigid is answer enough. But she does have to ask. "Was that you?"

The girl takes a step back and after a moment of hesitation, shrugs.

The report on the incident surfaces in Hannah's mind. Particularly the part where the victims described what they felt, stab wounds, headaches, heavy beating, maybe some broken or fractured bones. Enough to put some of them into comas to block it out. And this girl had been the source of it.

A power to make people feel what she does.

Jesus...

She's either a Brute or has friends in the wrong places, a child being massacred like that would no doubt make local news if she went to a hospital, and there's been no mention of something like this happening. Given how she's here now, alone and in her ratty 'costume' she's willing to bet it's the former.

And she's supposed to bring her in? She said she doesn't want to join the Wards, she's already planing to give up being a cape altogether! However that bit goes, parahumans rarely can help themselves but use their powers. Granted, the girl has a better incentive than most to stop. Or at least not use them offensively. But the fact still remains that she more than likely killed two people so she must be brought in for a hearing at least. Dammit.

"We have orders regarding you."

All the work she's done to put the younger cape at ease goes out the window the second she says it. As she knew it would, hoping for anything else would be foolish, but she's not about to lie, nothing good ever comes of lies. The teen cautiously takes a step back, and then another when the hero doesn't move.

"What orders?" It's a guarded question, hiding much fear behind it. Hannah loosely crosses her arms in effort to put her hands as far away from her weapon as she can without seeming threatening at the same time.

"We're supposed to offer you a position with us, what happened two weeks ago put some people on edge and if you don't want to join, then the PRT wants you to at least answer some questions to clear this mess up." _Whether she wants to or not_. But this Hannah doesn't say, full truth can do just as much harm as a lie.

"I'm not a villain! It was self-defense!" An undercurrent of anger can be heard in her words.

_She doesn't even know she just implicated herself. _Hannah hasn't yet asked about the dead after all.

"I know you aren't now, but you just disappeared. We've had no way of knowing with what happened there, and we can help you with your powers. The entire point of the Wards program is to-"

"I'm not joining Wards- I... my dad- I can't-" she struggles to say. If Hannah understands correctly- the girl hasn't told her father about her powers, and she doesn't want him to know. Unsurprising, a lot of kids don't tell their parents at first, she doesn't have to think very hard to figure out why would that be in this case.

"I'm not saying you have to, but we need you to cooperate with us on this-"

"You said I don't have to do anything." Another step back.

"This is different, there were two dead people back there and we need to make sure this won't happen again."

"They- they caught and tortured me, that's what happened and- I-" she cuts off. "I gotta get home." The hero swears under her breath, this isn't good, drawing the gun at her now will do more damage than letting her go might, on the other hand, Hannah is sure now that this girl killed the two men those two weeks ago. And she can't just take her word that it was in self-defense, anyone can say that. This goes double when capes are concerned, any and all killing during fights can be called self-defense.

"If that's true then you've got nothing to worry about," they're both distracted for a moment as a police siren becomes heard in the distance. She lets her hands down and the girl's head snaps back to her, she's walking backwards now.

She won't stay- Hannah realizes- won't listen.

The one step forward that Miss Militia takes is enough to set the other cape off. Heat and pain like a thousand searing needles assaults her eyes and she can't, just can't keep them open. It doesn't however matter when she closes them, the burning sting is still there, one of her hands drops to her weapon while she fruitlessly tries to wipe at her eyes with the other. Vaguely, her ears register the sound of urgent steps, too slow to be a run, too quick for a walk, but those quickly fade away and she still can't open her eyes!

And then, just as suddenly as it all started, the pain vanishes, leaving behind but phantom soreness. She realizes that she's tightly gripping her gun in the holster and that the other cape is nowhere to be seen. She blinks away the discomfort and tears. Definitely Brute, if she's been truthful and Hannah believes that she has, then there's no way the girl could have had that talk as calmly as she had.

She could give a chase, she could probably even catch the girl, looking around she knows immediately the way she fled, there has only been enough time for her to run in one direction. Yes, she could definitely catch her.

But if she does that now, then it's either joining the Wards or juvy for her, all because of circumstances way beyond her control. Both just seem so... unfair. She hopes the vigilante will indeed give up on being a cape, for both their sakes.

A pained sigh escapes her lips before she moves to check on the remaining ABB gangsters, her mind already working on the report she will give to the director.

* * *

Taylor's not sure how long she's been running but she only stops once she falls over for the third time, when her vision goes black for a second. She picks herself up from the ground and forces herself to walk a few more steps, into another dark ally, where she heavily sits on the ground behind a trash container, as to not be seen directly from the street.

She pulls off her goggles, then rips the mask off her face and blows her nose into it before throwing the thing inside the trash, all the while gasping for air after the exertion she's just put her lungs through. It's an ugly and wheezing sound, they're probably hurting, she's ran faster and farther than she's ever had and her migraine is killing her with every breath she takes.

She winces as her head thumps against the wall she's propped by. The reality of her situation slowly catching up with her.

She's just run from an attempted arrest, and used her powers to do so.

On a freaking Protectorate hero.

On Miss Militia!

How she's not in a holding cell right this very moment is beyond her.

Taylor wipes her tears, she's not sure whether they're caused by her emotions or it's just the spray, it won't wear off for some time yet and truthfully, she's grateful it won't. It lets her think she's not really crying again. And play pretend is what she needs right now. Pretend that she hasn't just attacked a big name hero. That she hasn't just painted herself a villain or... or a law breaker at the very least.

But what does it matter, had she stayed there, she'd have been arrested anyway. For all that Miss Militia might have said that's precisely what it was. The way the woman insisted she came with her raised just about every red flag in Taylor's mind. Not two minutes before, she said she didn't have to do anything and then... she knew she should have just walked away when the question was asked.

But she was just so excited, nervous, yes, but also excited to talk to her old hero crush. She got over it years ago but Miss Militia is still her favorite hero in the city. Strong, brave and dedicated.

Dedicated enough to pull a gun on a running kid.

She should have just went home when the hero took aim off her. Before the questions, before the dots connected, **WAY **before she heard the police siren. Before Miss Militia moved to capture her.

If someone told her just two weeks ago that Miss Militia would try to arrest her, she'd laugh, loudly and in genuine mirth. And she doesn't do that often.

For now, she remains sitting to let her body rest, it must be exhausted after tonight. It takes time but her headache finally returns to its usual, dull and ever-present state. Long enough for the pepper spray to wear off, enough for the tears not to flow anymore. All the while Taylor's listening to the sirens in the distance, on occasion curling up tighter when a police car drives by the alley she's resting in.

At some point, she must have drifted into fitful unconsciousness because when she jolts awake, the night sky is a little less dark than it was a moment ago. Shit, she must get home before Dad wakes up. It's still dark but it's winter and she didn't take a watch with her. Dad might be still sleeping or he might already be waiting with a breakfast. Okay, if she'll find him up then she's been... running! Yeah, she's been restless and went running, at night.

Without leaving him as much as a card.

Wait, is she sick? If Dad sees her sick... She sniffs to test her nose and wipes her forehead with her hand, She hears neither strange sounds nor does she find sweat on her palm. Huh, so her power works on diseases too. That's really neat actually. She won't have to deal with a cold ever again. And it's not like she has to care about cancer or somesuch in the future.

The girl can hear her bones pop as she sluggishly stands up, her body must be aching all over from that nap, oh well. She could sleep on rocks and it wouldn't make a difference to her.

She hopes that if she runs for it, she might still make it home in time. And if not, well, she will have been running won't she?

* * *

Kudos to me for starting and finishing this chapter in less than 24 hours time spawn (minus revisions, I left those for the next 3 days :p)

Aaaaaanyway, you didn't think Taylor's first encounter with a hero would go well did you?

XD


	7. Anesthesia 1-7

"This couldn't be done via files or something?" Sophia tries to hold herself from snarling, to a questionable degree of success. It's not that she cares about being civil, but if it keeps the others from ganking up on her ass and complaining about her then she can try. Having to listen to Armsmaster for an hour is even worse.

"Hell if I know," answers Clockblocker while he moves to make some space on the couch. "All they said was that Miss Militia has some info on that Phantom character, you remember yeah?"

"Uhuh," the girl plops herself down next to him, her teammate keeping just enough distance not to touch. It's kind of hard to forget someone making a mess like that. Nearly two hundred people involved in total and two dead at that. First sighting, probably a trigger. Two dead in the wake of a trigger.

She can give credit where it's due.

"Speaking of which," speaks up Kid Win from the other end of the couch. "I don't think there were any further incidents with that one?"

"Nah, nothing, well till last night anyway," answers Aegis. "Not really surprising, I too was messing with my power for a while after triggering before doing anything solid. Everything's pointing to our cape being a new one."

Sophia tunes the other wards out. Pointless chatter, they'll know soon enough when they're briefed. Why bother guessing? Besides, that's not what she's curious about either. The only thing she cares about are this new cape's powers. The rest is of no consequence to her. They're moderately powerful, have to be, and can hurt people without causing actual harm. Not the best weapon for a predator but it seems to be enough. There are knives after all.

It's a few minutes before the older heroes arrive- enough time for Sophia to start wondering whether or not to start up the gaming console- she's about to stand up when the proximity alarm gives off a short beep. Well about damn time. Guys might be good but playing with them is still a pain in the back when they start talking.

The first to enter the room, is Halberd, his lackey following half a step behind him, her scarf pulled down in the inner part of the building.

"Everyone's here, good. We can begin immediately." Armsmaster announces, the track star notices Aegis straightening up out of corner of her eye. Fucking boy scout.

The Protectorate heroes walk up to the front of them, only Miss Militia offering any sort of greeting, for all of his (many) flaws, Sophia honestly prefers Armsy when it comes to these things. He doesn't care about socializing and so doesn't expect anyone to do it. One of his few redeeming qualities. Honestly, he should have choked on the stick showed up his ass a long time ago. He has to have gotten hemorrhoids from it too, would explain why he never sits even outside of his armor.

The girl barely manages not to blanch at the mental image.

The local heroes' leader nods at Miss Militia to start.

"Last night, at roughly one hundred forty, I encountered the cape we've temporarily named Phantom Pain. She apprehended a group of five ABB members and seems to be trying out a vigilante route for the time being." Ah, so it is a she. The team has a bet going and it seems like she just won herself twenty bucks.

"Time being? Like, what, she's wondering which side to pick?" Interrupts Clockblocker.

"No, she seemed intent on giving up the cape life altogether-" Sophia lets out a loud snort at that. Yeah right, a cape giving up the most defining feature of their life. Likely story. "Yes, Shadow Stalker we will get to that later." The woman spares her a stern look, the dark skinned girl notices however that the rest of the team, while managing to remain silent, has similarly skeptic looks on their faces. "We talked, if shortly. From what I managed to gather it seems unlikely she'll become a threat unless provoked. That said- it doesn't take much to provoke her."

"We've readied new files for her, they contain a new set of instructions regarding approaching her along with her composite sketch." Interjects Armsmaster.

"Uh, easily provoked Ma'am?" Ma'am, ugh. Gallant honestly makes her want to puke sometimes.

"It's... likely she's paranoid. At least to a degree. She didn't intend to stick around after calling the crime in, she also lied about her involvement on the call." Smart girl, not smart enough to avoid the Protectorate altogether but points for wanting to. Smarter than the rest of this room combined, bar Sophia herself of course. "She became very agitated once I mentioned the incident, which she confirmed to be her trigger event. She fled shortly before the police arrived, using her power to do so."

Finally. Sophia straightens out in her seat, all the wards seem more attentive actually. Small damn wonder, the rest might enjoy playing pretend but when it comes to it, they all just want to know. It's always interesting when a new cape joins the fray.

"The power, as we already suspected, revolves around causing pain to others," the woman continues slowly, almost reluctantly. "But if her words are to be believed, then the pain she causes must come from her own body."

A silence descends over the room for a couple of very long seconds.

"Uh... you mean like, she gives you what she feels?" asks Aegis.

"Precisely."

Well damn.

Another moment of silence passes between them. Which the girl takes to take in the expressions of her teammates.

Clockblocker seems shocked, he steals a quick glance at her before turning away with a grimace. Aegis doesn't betray much emotion but it in itself is telling enough, he doesn't want to show what he's thinking, so likely something serious, freaking blowhard. Gallant, unsurprisingly, scowls at the confirmation. Sophia could sympathize, were he not such a fucking pain in the ass. Vista looks rather pale, seemingly growing green by the moment and Kid Win is squirming in his place, visibly uncomfortable.

"That's pretty fucked up." Sophia finally breaks the silence and says what everyone else thinks. And don't get her wrong, that's one hell of a power, being able to always give back just as much as one takes. But still fucked up.

Both of the Protectorate heroes pin her with a hard stare, which she elects to ignore. Come on, what are they gonna do, give her detention for swearing?

"...well that's one reason to quit if there's any," mutters Gallant. "

"No kidding," responds Clockblocker, and isn't this just a treat?

"Do we... have more details on it?" Vista forces out, apparently trying to find something else to occupy her thoughts.

"Of which we are certain? She's a Brute and a Shaker, tentative three and five. The Shaker part you know of, and when I encountered her, she likely had pepper spray in her eyes and had shown no sign of discomfort during our talk. That's how she got away. As far as we know right now, there is no way to decrease the effects, since they stem from her body. We also don't know if knocking her out will stop the attack and if it's directed or not. The instructions on how to deal with her in the case of a fight are in the files you'll be given, but we're here to discuss something else."

"That being your MO of approaching her," takes over Armsmaster. "Her behavior indicates a level of distrust towards authority, perhaps even paranoia. She will likely be more susceptible to being approached by a Ward."

"Wait," cuts in Kid Win. "we still want to make her a Ward?" Oh for fucks sake... Sophia rolls her eyes as Armsmaster straightens up even more (somehow, she never doubted it possible for him) and begins one of his speeches.

"The Ward's program primary goal is to provide a safe environment for learning about one's powers and how to achieve control over them. It exists first to help the underaged capes-" uhuh, yeah, sure. "-and only then to help the populace. The girl we're talking about has been dealt a hand which makes the use of her power exceedingly dangerous. Both to herself and others." Yeah, because Shadow Stalker had been such a danger to regular cattle before she was brought it. "As such, it is our duty to convince her to come with us, if not to become a Ward then at least to make sure she's not endangered or a danger to others." At times, Sophia wonders if he believes in the bull he spouts. Probably. The girl killed, there's no way the PRT will let her off the hook if they get their sticky paws on her. She of all people knows that well enough. "In spite of what transpired between her and Miss Militia, it's been decided that we should give her the benefit of the doubt. Do not assume her to be immediately hostile."

"Uhuh, and what if she still won't want to come with?" Sophia contributes, her voice tinted with disdain.

"Then we will have to assume that she is in fact a danger." Sophia scoffs, because of course. "She's capable of doing much damage, intentionally or not. It would be better if she decided to cooperate, but we can't just hope for the best and wait till she comes around. Vigilante or no, she can be dangerous." He pointedly looks at Sophia as he says the last part. Bitch.

"There's also another issue, that is only partially covered in the files." Miss Militia speaks up again. "Her power, how she seemed intent to use it as well as her behavior, point to a tendency towards recklessness on her part. Both in and outside battle." She pauses for a moment. "I'm afraid that if we can't make her come with us, she'll end up dead within a month."

* * *

Taylor's reasonably sure she's about to die.

Barely her fourth outing. It's sort of disappointing that she could not manage a bit longer but well. At least she's not alone in being a depressing statistic. A lot of capes die, most of those deaths rather quickly after their debuts. Does it make her a bad person to be glad about the fact right now? Probably not, nobody wants to be alone in their death.

Even if her company exists only in her thoughts.

It's not the most glamorous way of going out, while taking out a small drug stash. Taylor's bleeding might have stopped but if she steps her foot outside the building then the girl very much doubts she would survive for longer than a minute. The young cape is not sure about the exact number of the gangbangers outside but if she can trust her ears, at least three of them have pistols. And they are farther than her range goes. Taylor has always thought real guns (and their users for that matter) were much more accurate than in the movies but she could live without being proven right.

She idly rubs her stomach, where two of three bullets caught her when she first attempted to escape. The wounds themselves don't really hurt. She's aware of them and she'll admit (if only to herself) it's... sort of nice actually, to feel some part of her body at least. And her stomach is already messed up anyway so that's not the issue since nothing spilled out, nor is it the fact that they have not gone all the way through (well, there wasn't any blood on her hands when she rubbed her back at least) and that it somewhat hurts when she moves.

It's not that bad, she could remove the offending metal by herself, it's not like she has to be very careful or under drugs for the process. All she'd need would be a mirror and a pair of tweezers (should her fingers not suffice). So no, that's not the issue either.

The real problem is that the building she's holed herself up in is being consumed by flames.

And if it only were the ABB who set it aflame, but no. It was her own stupid idea to burn the drugs, of which there were not that much, she simply dropped it all on an armchair and set the furniture on fire.

It got a bit out of hand since then.

...she needs to catch some proper sleep. She wouldn't have done this were she not sleep deprived, probably, she thinks. It's kind of hard to be sure when she hasn't properly slept in three weeks. Maybe she would have done the same thing. She likes to think not, it did occur to her that a fire will get out of control, the thought did not however connect anywhere further, stuck in the mud of her thoughts.

And now she's trapped here, doomed to either burn alive or be shot to death. If she wasn't stupid about the whole thing, then she could simply wait it out, safe in her bubble of bruises, gunshot wounds and headache until heroes or even police arrive would arrive.

And arrest her.

It's- what? Manslaughter, property damage to all those cars, probably causing the drivers some injuries, uh... assaulting a government hero, evading arrest and now she can add arson to that list.

Nice. There are probably villains with less under their belts. She's evidently not cut out to be a hero. Or anything else that she's aware of. She cooks decently but with her current issue of lacking the sense of taste? Hm, at least the heat wouldn't be noticeable to her. Nor would she tire to any noticeable extent.

It's a pity that less and less people can afford to regularly eat out. Kind of shuts down that option.

It's also a pity she's going to die. Probably the lesser of the two- Taylor thinks- unaware of a smile spreading underneath the green scarf she's taken to using as a part of her 'new' mask. The scarf being the only new element in it, the goggles and hood staying the same.

"Come out voodoo bitch! We'll make it quick!" one of the men outside shouts, loud enough to be somewhat heard over the roaring flames.

She grunts, annoyed at the name that she seems to have been given, she heard it for the first time on her third outing, the night when the gangsters first seemed to know about her and were keeping an eye out. She took out thirteen people total that night, in three different groups as they tried to hunt her down. They hadn't even sent any capes after her, not that they needed to, judging by her current predicament.

The girl drums her fingers on her knees, weighting her options. She could get up from under the wall and make a run for it, lost likely losing her life in the process. Not that bad really, if they do make true on their promise and just shoot her dead, seeing as her other choice is staying in the house, hoping that somebody comes to save her before she's cooked alive. Which she can guess would likely be a fair bit more painful than her first option.

And slower too. She glances at loud, ever closing fires. Somebody should have seen the fire, somebody must have. So the help must be on its way no? Not necessarily heroes, just regular policemen or even firefighters would do if they create enough commotion for her to get away. She can wait, she can't feel the temperature. She can wait. And she can fry without noticing before it's too late. Hell, serious burns are wounds for life and her healing doesn't simply repair all damage done to her. What would she tell Dad were she to come home with burn scars?

The vigilante groans as she stands up, the stinging ache in her stomach and chest making itself known. But they should have already mended enough not to spill her guts' contents inside of her. Or so she hopes anyway, it's not like she can wait any longer. Damn it must suck for normal people when they get shot. It's almost comparable to hitting one's toes on a door frame, back when she could feel that. She can't anymore.

"We can drag it out too if you want!" An ugly grimace passes her face. She's coming! Can't they give a girl ten fucking seconds to brace for what will likely be her death? The image of two mutilated bodies passes through Taylor's mind and she hugs herself, wondering if she'll look anything like them.

She glances at the fire, now no more than a few feet from her. Her mind eagerly supplying Taylor with pictures of her terrible, awful death as she writhes in flames.

No way. If she's gonna die then it won't be by burning alive. She's... fine. With being shot, crushed, sliced open or into pieces, she is. She is. Those shouldn't be so bad with her power. The bullets are probably the least painful of them all when she thinks about it. And she won't have to deal with her migraine, so there is that. There, positive thoughts. That's what those leaflets say.

She props her head against the wall and takes a couple of deep breaths, or rather as deep as she can what with the wheezing she produces, caused by the third bullet stuck somewhere in her chest. The girl dearly hopes it has gone through her lung at least, should she survive, that could actually require help to dig out without permanently injuring herself, if it hasn't done so already.

Finally, she pushes herself off the wall and grabs the door handle, steeling herself for whatever is about to come.

She opens the door and throws herself out onto the street, the only noise being the roaring of fire that adds to the weak streetlights. The cape doesn't waste time and rushes in the direction she thinks there is only one shooter, the other end of the street had two the last time. If she can close in fast enough then her aura (as she calls it) might just reach and disable him from action.

There's a shout and a few wide shots, the gangsters thrown off by the fact she's actually taking her chances with them.

She only manages to cross a dozen or so feet when the first bullet pierces her chest, one that came from the direction she's running in, from one of the windows of a run down building. It hurts, but only enough for her to notice, and then just ignore. There is more shooting from behind her, good, she chose the right direction at least. Running towards more gunfire seems like a bad life choice.

The second bullet, similarly to the first, catches her in the front, a side of her stomach this time, but she sees the shot and it's close enough now for the third to never come, what comes instead is a pained scream.

The third bullet bits itself into her thigh, one of the other criminals finally managing to land a successful shot. But it doesn't stop Taylor. She barely notices as both her power and her body work in tandem to let her escape.

The fourth shot that reaches its mark feels different, more powerful. It pierces right through her back and comes out the front. She's not sure where. It's the fourth one that makes her stumble and fall to the ground, that makes her see black.

Her breath shallow, the girl forces herself onto her elbows, and then up again. Noticing neither the wide shots that would undoubtedly throw her to the ground again nor hearing the short and horrifying scream of the criminal in her range. The only sound she can hear being her own blood rushing through her head.

She starts moving again, running or not, she can't tell. But she's moving.

For a moment at least, as she suddenly notices that she's looking at the asphalt from way to close for her to still be standing. Damn.

She is supposed to make dinner today.

Finding she can't get up, Taylor turns onto her back, hoping to ease up the weird sounds she's making with every breath.

And vacuum tomorrow. It'll be filthy. When Dad learns. And he'll make it... more. With drinking.

She should have cleaned today.

In her last waking moment, she sees a star falling from the sky.

* * *

"Shot through the heart, and you're to blame. Darling you give love, a bad name!"

XD

Yes that is what I sang to myself while writing this.


	8. Anesthesia 1-8

Nothing.

Again.

The woman sighs heavily as she ascends higher above the city.

She's trying, the best she can. But another night of breaking bones to no effect is weighting heavily on her mind. Another night spent on the pursuit of creating a better world for her daughter. A daunting task to be sure, one she sometimes think hopeless. But her feelings on the matter are of little importance, not using her powers for the good of the city would destroy her just as surely as her ex-husband almost had.

Still, Kayden muses as her eyes scour the landscape, it's tiring to not achieve anything worth mention for almost two weeks in a row. It's partially because she's more cautious now, she knows. But she can't risk like she used to, risk Aster loosing her mother, can't risk her daughter going to Him. She would be destroyed just as thoroughly as Theo has been. She can live with less success if it means not depriving her baby of her mother.

Purity's radiant eyes squint when she sees something, a fire, down below in the Docks. Hm. Worth seeing up close if nothing else. Might be gang activity, might be something as little as a simple fire breakout. She's fine with either, although doubtful if she would learn anything useful from the thugs if she finds any, the ABB has been quiet ever since moving into the Docks, simply enforcing their presence on their new turf. Which she's fine with, boredom is usually good news.

And should it be a simple fire? Well, she had not joined Max with the single goal of showing the supposedly inferior races where their place was. Even if it eventually became her almost sole role in the Empire. It's one of the many reasons she eventually left. Kayden might not be working grand scale like she used to, but saving someone from a fire is a reward in and of itself. And most of the time it's all she gets, this sense of satisfaction from a job well done.

Because while it's depressing, she can't really blame anyone for running away in fear, even after just being saved by her. She had spent ten years of her life getting a reputation of the kind that makes people run away, not towards her. It won't go away in a month.

...or a year.

Possibly ever.

She drops to the streetlights level and hovers there, taking in the scene. Her expression twists in contempt as she sees a pair of men in ABB colors in the middle of the street, now frozen in place and looking up at her. It's silent bar the roar of fire, a quick glance at the lit up building dispels her thoughts of going inside. If anyone's there, they're already dead. Besides, the building looks just about as decrepit as the rest of the area. Abandoned and (she hopes) empty.

It takes only as much as raising a hand for the thugs below her to break from the spell and scatter in panic, she doesn't, however, attack. She doesn't need arson to her name and the only new development lately has been...

There's a body.

She suddenly regrets not sending an entire barrage after the running thugs.

Kayden hurriedly floats to the latest gang victim, hoping, in spite of knowing better than to hope, that it's not too late.

The first thing she notices, is the wheezing sound that she can all too easily recognize, having heard it on many occasions during her time in the Empire. It's both good and bad news. The girl (for she refuses to believe someone this thin can be either adult or such a tall boy) is still alive, though unlikely for long if she doesn't receive help.

She lands beside her and only then notices the... mask, she thinks. Is she a cape? Going by her clothes she might very well be just someone unfortunate or stupid enough to ruffle ABBs' feathers. White too, what is she doing in such a decrepit place?

Doesn't matter, the woman decides as she kneels by the girl and checks her pulse, relieved to find it there, if struggling and uneven. She then gathers the cooling body in her arms. There's no time to waste, she'll bleed out, surely, if she- Kayden pauses when her arm secures the girl's back and she sees.

There's... surprisingly little blood pooling from the various gunshot wounds that the woman can see. And they're numerous enough to cause instant shock, and damn near instant death. Somewhat shaken, her eyes land on the girl's breast, underneath where her heart should be, where her hoodie is stained red the most.

Her heart has no right to beat. And yet it does.

So a cape, who exactly though? Nobody from the major gangs, of that she is certain. A memory, a fairly recent one surfaces in her mind.

_-cause she's like a voodoo doll._

That's what the chinks call the new cape that first showed up on their territory about a week ago. A cape who lacks any semblance of real costume, simply wearing a pair of goggles and a scarf in addition to rather shabby, day-to-day clothes. Supposedly capable of returning the damage taken. She remembers thinking that it's just what the city needed, a new King, hero or no.

But if this is the cape, this Voodoo Doll, then it seem like Purity has been grossly misinformed. Unless another cape with a grudge against ABB has shown up that dresses in the exact same style and is also either a wiry girl or a poorly fed woman.

The person in her arms certainly fits the physical description well enough. And she's a parahuman alright, a Brute if nothing else. But does that change anything?

Not really, no.

Kayden picks the girl up bridal style, finding her way too light to possibly be healthy, and takes off in the direction of the closest hospital.

The kid might be a Brute, but the woman doesn't know if she can survive the damage, her breathing's all wrong and her heart is probably in no better condition. Nor can she know if she's immune to frost, or if the ABB or even someone else would not return to finish the job. Staying in one place for too long is also not a good idea for Purity. Her extended presence in the Docks would be bound to draw attention of both Lung and Oni Lee. Some help she would be to the young vigilante were a fight between the three of them to break out.

No, the only way to help her is to carry her to a hospital, it's close enough for a flier, already hovering on the horizon as a matter of fact. She'll simply drop her there and-

A choked gasp escapes her lips as her heart is pierced through, as a number of wounds forces her body into convulsions, lead twisting her insides, her head's about to explode and she's not flying, she's not flying although she knows she is BUT SHE'S NOT SHE'S CURLED UP AND FALLING AND-

She slams onto a rooftop she's been trying to land on, but it's not her body hitting the hard floor that she feels. It's her wounds opening up again, tearing half-healed flesh open and upsetting the metal stuck in her body. It's her heart painfully beating in her chest, struggling to pump blood that is just not there. It's her head, threatening to crack from the inside with each pulse of her heart. It's her body, cold and heavy and clumsy, bruising and scratching with each tumble against the rough surface of the roof.

Kayden curls into a ball, trying to minimize the damage and comes to a sudden stop when her vision rattles as if she's hit something. Something that's not there, something she doesn't feel, she's a mess of flailing limbs and she's only now coming to a stop, her momentum lost in the skin and material that's no longer on her arms and legs.

She doesn't cry out, doesn't join the feverish screams coming from inside the building she's crashed on. Instead, she pulls herself to her knees, not feeling any of her own movements, all of them replaced with total stillness and pain.

She's about to force herself to her feet, when just as suddenly as it has started, the pain goes away. Kayden's own feelings returning to her in the same second, the ordeal laving her gasping for breath, her heart wild as if trying to burst from her chest, and her whole body aching and tired. She wants to lay back, just stay how she is and rest a little bit, but what she wants and what she must do are two very different things.

The woman pushes herself to her feet, swaying slightly when her head starts spinning. She wildly looks around for her attacker before her thoughts catch up with her, and Purity's gaze lands upon the other figure on the roof, currently trying (and failing) to get to her knees. The older cape forces herself to stand up and quickly checks herself for any injury. Finding nothing more serious than scrapes and what will soon become bruises, she scowls angrily and readies a blast in her hand, pointing it towards the girl who for all her effort is now lying face down on the floor.

The ugly expression doesn't leave her face, but some of her anger dissipates at the frankly pathetic sight. She scans the area around them both again, making sure there's nobody else that could be responsible for what just transpired. But true to her suspicions, there's no one to be found.

Kayden's gaze returns to the wounded girl, contemplating.

Her power does not return the damage she takes- she realizes. It replaces her target's sensations with her own. She's also a Brute, no question about that. There's no way she could survive her wounds otherwise but... Christ, it was only a few seconds and she had to struggle to even get to her knees, someone without a trained pain threshold could not possibly hope to do more than curl up and wish to die (as the people in the building beneath had undoubtedly done, going by their initial screams). So unless the cape in front of her is a child soldier, then she simply doesn't feel it.

Voodoo Doll.

Yes. She can see why would they call her that.

Ready to spring into action at any moment, Kayden steps closer to the girl, who has in the meanwhile managed to sit up, her scarf coming loose and showing her mouth. She seems not to have even noticed Purity's presence yet. Huh, does she even know what she's done? If she attacked on purpose then why relent? She doesn't seem to be in a rush, and while the older woman can't see her eyes, the rest of her face looks completely blank in Kayden's light, her every move slow. It occurs to her that the girl might have scored a concussion in that fall.

She wipes her frown away, steeling her face into an expressionless mask before speaking:

"Care to explain what was that about?"

It takes the kid whole two seconds before she reacts. And when she does, it's only by looking in her general direction, her mouth ajar and breathing heavily, curiously, the previous wheezing- while still present- is now much quieter than before, Kayden could not hear the difference over the whistling air before.

"Did you do that on purpose?" She rephrases, seeing a total lack of comprehension on the girl's part. Again it takes her two seconds to react at all.

"What?" But of course it's a concussion. Her... everything really is too slow for her to be alright. Her previous wounds notwithstanding.

She lets her hand fall to her side and her blast to fizzle out. She could just as easily knock the girl out if she as much as nudges her in her side. Besides, she has trouble staying angry at her when she looks like that, half ready to black out. She approaches the young cape and crouches beside her.

"Listen, can you remember what happened?" She asks trying to sound gentle, her muscles might ache and those few seconds were... well horrible. But the girl doesn't seem to have done that on purpose, doesn't seem to know that she has done anything at all really.

"I... was fighting ABB?" The skin around her goggles wrinkles as she stares at the older woman, her mouth drawn into a thin line. Curious, people can barely look directly at her most of the time, even when using shades. "I... they-" she coughs. "-they have guns and-" she stops, quickly loosing what little color she's retained and making a sound like-

The woman is only just quick enough to step back when the girl begins emptying her stomach in the place she was just occupying. The teen's arms shake, barely supporting her weight and Kayden briskly comes back to her side to hold her shoulders, making sure she doesn't fall into her own... blood?

Purity frowns, Brute or no, she needs to drop the girl off at a hospital. She herself can't stay there for longer than necessary but the PRT is sure to take notice. If the kid wants to roam the streets then tonight should convince her she shouldn't do it alone.

Just as she's predicted, the scrawny girl almost falls forward at one point, would have without her help, and once she's done, she goes nearly limp in Kayden's arms.

"Come on, lets get you to hospital." That, quicker than anything else she's said, prompts a reaction. An unexpected one too as when the words translate in the girl's head, she suddenly goes rigid and struggles away from the older cape. "What's the matter?"

"I'm fine. I don't need- help." Somehow, the teen finds the strength to stand up on her own. Unsteady though her stance may be. Again she stares at Kayden, again with the same lost expression. As if struggling to think. She probably is.

"No of course you don't." She murmurs under her nose and stands up. Is this what it's like to deal with teenagers? Lord grant her patience if Aster grows up to be like that. "You're hurt, badly. Somebody needs to see you." it's when she says that, that the girl's passive (if wary) demeanor abruptly takes on a startled edge.

She's seen it happen too many times not to expect what happens next.

"Like your nazi friends? Thanks but I'll pass," she says while backing away, her voice shaking.

"I'm not with the Empire anymore, I left over a year ago."

She doesn't respond. Busy with keeping herself standing, and it is quite an effort judging by how with each step she seems to be catching herself from falling. It seems to Kayden like she has only just noticed that they're on a roof if her panicked assessment of their surroundings is any tell.

"I'm not going to hurt you, and I'm really not with the Empire anymore," she continues.

"And I'm supposed to believe that because?" She finally answers once she finds no way to get off the roof other than to either jump or climb down. It's telling, her power isn't enough to make her simply jump off a building and take it in stride.

The woman sighs in frustration. Because within the just asked question lies the problem that rears its head every time she needs somebody to cooperate. How can she convince someone that she's not with the Empire?Anything short of attacking E88 seems to be too little, and attacking her old comrades is hardly something high on her priority list. Firstly, many of them were her friends. And secondly, they're not the greatest problem this city has. She knows she's biased but the fact remains. And most of the time her association is not even that big an issue as the situation is usually bad enough that it's either trusting Purity to keep her word, or getting hurt with a 100% certainty. Rarely is there someone who decides to refuse her help.

"Nothing I can prove to you right now," she decides to answer. "But I'm the one who saved you from the- ABB." She barely catches herself, it's a bad words choice to use Empire terminology when trying to convince someone she's cut ties with her old group. Still, old habits die hard and the world is doing little to help her change her outlook of it. "So trust me when I say that I'm trying to help."

"I- thank you but- ugh." She grabs her head between her hands, her lips curling into a pained grimace. "Help you say?" she asks as she sits down, apparently tired of standing.

"Yes, we were on our way to Saint John's when you... woke up."

"...shit," the teen says under her nose. "I flared didn't I?" That's... an appropriate name for that, she supposes.

"Yes you did. That's why I say you need help."

"I said... I'll be-"

"No you won't be fine!" she interrupts, raising her voice. "You've got bullets in your stomach, you've got a concussion and your heart or something damn close got shot clear through, you won't be fine." Not with the way her voice is growing weaker by the moment.

"I'm- not going to hospital." She replies weakly, if stubbornly. Kayden gets the impression that the girl is trying to talk louder as well but just can't manage it.

"I can't just let you go like this."

"Course you can-" she rasps back. "-how many have you left like that?" The accusation hits her not unlike a punch to the chest. There's a spark of anger there too but the weight of her guilt quickly overpowers it. Because while she wants to be angry, to say that she's wrong-

She's not.

She had caused many deaths, and not prevented even more when she so easily could have. They were not people to her at the time, not human, not worth her effort. At times she even stood by and watched, enjoyed it. So sure in her own cause and superiority.

And that is precisely why she can't just let the girl go. She approaches her again, close to the roof's edge, and again lowers herself to her eye level.

"Look," she begins, her tone serious. "you can't even stand on your own. You won't get further than half a mile, if that. And then what? Let's say somebody finds you and lets even say you'll be lucky enough that it won't be a criminal at this hour." She notices the teen flinch at her words. "They'll call for an ambulance anyway. If you're lucky. More likely you'll just freeze to death in this cold, you can freeze right?" The girl's silence is answer enough. "Well?" She stands up and extends her hand. "Come on."

The girl looks at her hand for a moment, then up, straight at her.

"I'm wanted- okay?" she says, audibly struggling not to whisper. The admission freezes Kayden's next words in her throat. That... would explain her insistence against being brought to hospital. But it opens up an entirely new can of worms. Purity, after all, is a vigilante, if pursued by law.

"You're a villain?"

"No?" She coughs, and speaks a bit louder afterwards. "My trigger caused some damage and- look, can I just go?" She draws in on herself, hands crossed. Kayden can see how her power could have caused more than a little damage when she triggered. Wasn't there an incident some three weeks ago that would perfectly fit the picture? The woman purses her lips as the silence between them stretches out.

"I know a doctor who doesn't ask questions," she finally offers.

The teen looks as if about to refuse when a violent coughing spell catches her, nearly causing her to fall over. Purity doesn't help or say a thing this time, letting the girl's heavy breaths carry her point.

"What do you want?" the younger cape eventually asks without looking up.

"Pardon?"

"What do you want? Money? Favors? I can't give either." Honestly, the kid's insistence on not being helped is beginning to try her nerves.

"I want to help you. That's all, you won't owe me anything." Nor will Kayden herself owe anything to Bertrandt. She ashamed of using the surgeon's drug addiction like she does but she needs a doctor available 24/7 who won't drain all her funds, while he needs a source that won't screw him over and mix in something undesirable. For a cape like Purity, who regularly hits drug stashes, it's a deal bordering on unrefusable.

The girl stays silent for a long moment before finally answering.

"...okay. I'll- I'll come with you."

* * *

Yup. It's not New Wave.

Who would have thought.


	9. Anesthesia 1-9

"Could you please hold your stomach open a bit?"

"Adam!"

"Ah- right, I'm sorry. Only it's not every day I get to work with a patient quite like this, it's exciting you understand." The middle-aged physician addresses Taylor.

"No it's- it's fine." interrupts the girl, her voice scratchy, before the two go anywhere further with their small argument. She can actually understand the doctor's fascination with operating on a fully conscious patient, he might be a bit... too into it but hell, that's something she doesn't intend to approach with a ten foot pole. "Like this?" She asks as she lifts herself from her back onto her elbows to see the newly reopened wound and pulls at the edges of it, granting the man better access to the bullet.

"Quite so, thank you," he replies with a warm smile.

"Jesus Christ-" Purity for one, sounds and looks just about ready to puke again, occupying space near the sink and very pointedly looking everywhere that the doctor and his patient aren't. Now, her reaction is much easier to understand. A month ago, Taylor too would have emptied her stomach at the sight of someone casually messing around with their own insides. But one can get used to it, Taylor's memory has certainly been helpful enough in supplying her mind with far worse images.

It's amazing how the past weeks have dulled her sensitivity. Honestly, the most bothersome thing for her right now is that she had to remove her excuse of a bra for the surgeon to check if her heart won't give out on her. Purity's presence is hardly calming either. Even though they both seem entirely consumed by their job and by looking everywhere but at Taylor. Still, she never would have thought that the first people to see her at least half-naked that are not her parents would be a nazi and her doctor. or an ex-nazi, Purity's being quite adamant when talking about it.

The young cape doesn't quite know what to think about her, she seems... almost nice, if stern about Taylor listening to her. That she's been willing to go as far as to bring her to her hideout (admittedly, with her eyes obscured for the last few minutes of their flight but still) and provide a doctor to her has already made Taylor's perception of her do a flip, not a total 180 but a solid 90 at least.

She wonders if the woman would do the same for a non-white.

"I've noticed something, if you don't mind explaining that is." She is snapped out of her reverie by the man Purity introduced as Adam. She simply motions for him to continue on. "Do you have a dietary disorder?"

"Huh?" Her brain might have recovered but she's still exhausted and is having trouble processing information when she's not focusing.

"Do you have an eating disorder?"

"Um, not that I know of, why?"

She doesn't as much as twitch when he pulls another bullet out of her. It stings a little, similar to how her needles used to in the beginning but nothing more than that. It might not exactly feel pleasant but she'll relish the feeling all the same. She'll likely go a few days not feeling a thing after tonight after all.

"Your mass is... well, underwhelming and especially so with your body type, as a doctor I feel I need to ask why," he answers while stitching her wound, it'll take minutes at most to completely heal up without them but the doctor insists, saying the scars won't be as bad that way. Taylor looks at Purity, wondering if she speak about her powers in her presence. Then again, it's the villain who has saved her life. And talking about her diet with an actual doctor would be nice. She's pretty sure that she's lost a few pounds tonight with her power eating away at her reserves, she hopes it hasn't burned through any of her her muscles in the process.

Heh, if she ever has any trouble with her weight...

"I eat more actually, lately, anyway. It's my power, it speeds up the healing process and I guess- I think it takes what it needs... needs..." She pauses, trying to remember what she's been meaning to say. "From me at the same rate too."

"That's... rare. Better than nothing of course," he says with a wry smile. "We wouldn't be having this conversation otherwise, that will be enough, thank you," he motions her to lie back down. "Still, if your power works that way then I predict you'll fall ill quite easily in the coming days."

"I don't think so? I had a cold a few days ago for... few hours or less." Probably less, seeing how it went away while she was nodding off.

"Handy, but it's not that. Human body can only take in so many supplements at a time, do you take vitamins? Calcium, Iron?"

"Uh... "

"You should start, you'll be... weakened, after today. Sudden vertigo, weakness spells, frequent cramps, sleepiness and headaches-" Yeah well if it gets worse than her current one already is she might just jump off a roof. No wait, sleepiness? Maybe she'll actually manage to catch some sleep. "-blood pressure shouldn't be a problem in your case but there might not be all there needs to be in the blood itself." He pauses thoughtfully. "An IV would get you up to speed but for that you would need to be admitted. That is, unless you're that kind of villain." he adds as an afterthought.

That kind of... No. Just no.

"I'm not a villain, and I'm not stealing from a hospital."

"I'm only presenting your options." He replies calmly as he begins taking off the first set of stitches that he's put on her tonight. "Dietary supplements, that's all you really need right now and unless you have an enhanced digestive system then only drip feeding would ensure you stay- relatively healthy. Your power might fight your illness quickly but it still takes energy no? Always unhealthy, and you might not want to lose any more weight." True enough she supposes. "Oh, and please don't take calcium and iron simultaneously, they cancel each other out." ...huh, she needs to tell Dad, he's been taking those in one glass for a long time now.

"Supplements. Got it."

"You should also avoid any strenuous activity for at least a couple of days. Your power might be helping you heal quick but brain trauma should be treated seriously regardless. Now-"

He steps back and gives her a once-over with a critical eye.

"-I'll go get you a bottle of water while you heal up, you must be parched." She must be, if the nagging feeling that she should go find a tap and claim it as her own is anything to go by. Not that she actually feels parched, or thirsty at all for that matter. But that is something they don't need to know.

"Thanks," she croaks out. Ah, there is also her voice, if there is a specific sound people make when thirsty then her voice could likely make for a decent example of it. How much water does it take to replenish the amount she'd lost anyway?

"Are you okay?" The young cape turns her head towards Purity when she interrupts her musings. It's a bit hard to tell if her expression matches her voice what with her light, but she sounds concerned. Not something she's been expecting from her, even after it's become apparent that her offer of help is genuine. Taylor's still not sure what to think about the woman to be honest. Well, she's a terrible person for what she'd done in the past, that's not really under any scrutiny. On the other hand, she sounded so sincere when talking about trying to right her wrongs.

Regardless, the cape has kept her word and ensured that Taylor got to a doctor. And in the teen's eyes it warrants being civil at the least, a healthy dose of suspicion is still warranted though. The girl has been racking her brain while trying to remember whether Purity has truly left E88 or not. And came up blank, but she also remembers nothing that would suggest she's lying either. And she's not been pressuring Taylor to do anything bar getting help so... perhaps she's telling the truth.

"Better," Taylor settles on rasping out, and she is better. A lot of her body was aching with the bullets stuck inside. Not much worse than bruises if her memory's not wrong but still quite annoying. "Tired, but better."

"Good, good..." she trails off, looking to her side before her eyes snap back to Taylor. "Tell me, do you have plans for the future? You got lucky today-" From a certain standpoint, Taylor supposes. Luck has great many faces it seems. "-but what happened tonight will happen again."

The teen shrugs. Not really sure what to say since she has no plans beyond trying to clean up the Docks, and what Purity says rings true. She got pinned down on her third night out. She would have died without help and that's with only regular thugs at the site. Were it Oni Lee that she encountered, she'd have died for certain.

"I see. Have you considered joining the Wards then?" The older cape continues.

"I'm not on the best of terms with the law, remember?"

"I realize. However, it would not be the first time that a new parahuman caused some damage when they triggered. You would get pardoned for sure."

"Maybe." Maybe not. If it was only the mess she made on that day then... probably, yeah. Self defense and all that. But after the run-in with Miss Militia she's not so sure about how it would look like. Would it be a partnership or coercion? And then there is Dad. Him learning about her powers and how she got them?

No.

"You will die on your own." And it's fine with her. Admittedly, the last few weeks have been novel in comparison to the entire last year but to go as far as to say that things are looking up would be a bit of a stretch. At least her powers give her a sort of escape, from bullying in the school and from thinking about it at home. Why, when Sophia poured a can of soda over her on last Wednesday, Taylor simply went to next class like nothing happened (why would she care if she can't feel how sticky or wet it was, and it's not like she has any reputation left to keep), only changing into her PE clothes when the teacher ordered her to.

She shrugs again and the woman lets out a frustrated sigh.

"What are you trying to do out there anyway? I get that you want to clean up a bit, but the moment you become a notable nuisance, Lung will send someone after you, maybe Oni Lee but probably just some hit man of his, and it'll be enough you know?" Taylor does know, but does it really matter?

"And what do you say I should do?"

"Joining the Wards is your best option if you want to be a hero-" She doesn't, really. Her father aside, joining the heroes would likely mean using her powers much more frequently and that would feel... wrong. If she wouldn't end up in juvie that is. "-and if not then keep low at least, switch your target to the Merchants, they've got guns too but-"

"And maybe I'll just stick to the ABB?" She butts in, irked at the woman's insistence. She's grateful to her, kind of anyway. However, it's not her business whether or not Taylor goes after Lung's gang or not. But seeing the woman flinch at her words does make her feel like an ass. She's only trying to help, has helped. "I'm sorry. I just- don't care about the Merchants. And the ABB neither it's just... they're in the way. I simply wanna clear the Docks out, some, at least."

Purity frowns and crosses her arms, lightly tapping her fingers against them.

"Some?"

Shit. This is what happens when one doesn't really speak with people for a year.

"I mean I can't take out Lung on my own, right?" yeah that's-that's not really much better. "So I-uh, will try to avoid him I guess." Maybe she should start talking to a mirror, get back in shape? It's normal right?

"And you really think you can just evade him?" Well no, but Taylor is not about to tell her why exactly she's never planned for her cape career to be a very long one. The when doesn't really matter, she was ready to die tonight and the fact she hasn't means only that she might put a few more criminals behind bars before someone gets her. Though truthfully, she would prefer it not to be Lung. Getting mauled to death by a dragon is not the way she'd like to go. Bullets, she has learned, are not that bad, suffocating probably wouldn't hurt that much either, if at all.

"Yeah that's- and excuse me for saying- a stupid idea." adds Adam as he walks through the door with a bottle of water in his hand. "Purity here thought she could hit and run for a time too, I'd know the best how that ended. Here." he winces before saying the last part and handing her the bottle, the cap already off.

Taylor sits up and nods her thanks before starting to slowly sip, prompting the doctor to raise his brows at her pace.

"I mean if he comes." She explains after she drains a fourth of the bottle. "I'm not about to seek him out- that's... yeah, dumb."

"Well, I'm glad my work here won't go to waste too early." Chuckles the man, causing Taylor to smile and Purity to grimace. "Alright, let's take your stitches off and I think we'll be done here."

The girl glances at her chest, where the first stitches put on her tonight were, huh. The scars do look better than either of those she made herself when first testing her power. Pointless, but what vanity she's preserved makes her wonder if she should start carrying thread along with her needles. Or a first aid kit in general... nah, just a disinfectant if anything at all because honestly, dressing a wound when she stops bleeding before she can finish seems rather pointless.

"And done." Huh? She hasn't been paying attention. "A model patient aren't you? I don't say this often but it's been a pleasure working with you. Keep safe girl, that you can take a beating doesn't mean you should, and remember what I told you." Taylor takes a swig of water before responding, her voice still hoarse but already sounding more like herself.

"Thanks, and I will."

"Well then. If you ladies will excuse me, I'll see myself out. Goodnight." The man announces while throwing his gloves into trash. That done, he leaves without another word, only nodding back to Purity's own goodbye on his way out of the impromptu surgery room.

The girl pushes her legs off the table and is about to hop off of it to gather her clothes when she notices Purity standing in front of her with said clothes in her hands. She gives the older cape a small smile and quickly dresses herself up. Adam might have left but she still feels supremely uncomfortable with her scarred skin exposed.

"Should I put the scarf around my eyes now or...?"

"That depends, do you have a moment?"

"Um, what hour is it?" Purity looks around at the question, and walks up to the sink where, Taylor notices, a phone is lying.

"Three twenty three." Shit, they're kind of far away from Taylor's home and she might not make it in time even if she takes a bus, there aren't too many at this time of night. "What's the matter?" She cursed out loud? Ugh. She's not about to say she want to get home before Dad wakes up and she has to climb through her window.

"I was just hoping I could get home before four you know? Sleep for a bit." Not that she can sleep any more than a bit nowadays, still, squeezing in two hours of fitful rest would give her enough energy to go through school. Hm, she'll just take a nap when she's done with her assignment in Mrs. Knott's class. That should do till she gets back home in the afternoon.

"I hear that," the woman groans. "But you get used to it after a time, try not getting addicted to coffee though." Kind of late for that. "So can you spare a few minutes?

"'A few I guess." Not like she can make it home fast enough for that little to make a difference anyway...

"Look I don't know how to say it so I'll just ask. You're going to keep going into the Docks yes?"

"Yeah?" Didn't she already say? She probably did. Her memory is being spotty, and now that Purity has mentioned it, she's actually starting to crave for a coffee.

"Then sooner or later you'll face either Oni Lee or Lung, if you don't die beforehand." Which Purity's tone makes plenty clear she thinks will happen. "If you don't join a team, then at least be careful, I've been where you are now and I was taking stupid risks, going after everything that seemed promising. Almost died as well." Taylor eyes widen at the admission, her mind going into a curious place once she realizes something.

They are both after ABB, with neither of them being capable of bringing it down.

"Are you sure you're okay? You keep spacing out."

"No, I'm- I'm okay, just tired..." Really tired if she's actually considering going through with the idea that has just surfaced in her mind, still, if she has one chance of making a real difference, it might very well be it. "Say. How do you square against Lung and Oni Lee?" Purity stares at her for a moment, surprised at the question, before cautiously venturing:

"So-so. I can beat them both when they're alone, almost have a couple of times but the other always shows up, and with them both there it gets difficult, why?"

Hell, what is she afraid of? That a (ex) nazi will turn her down?

Or rather that she won't?

"Could you take them with my help?"

"That's..." She begins, visibly and audibly taken aback. Well Taylor isn't exactly confident about the idea either but if they could actually manage to take down the ABB leaders? Or even just one of them? That would be huge, Lung is pretty powerful in his own right if the stories are to be believed, but even he would have to think twice before taking action without his murderous right hand at his beck and call. More than that, if what Purity says is true, with Oni Lee gone, she would be able to bring Lung down on her own. "That would depend on you. I'll be honest here, you won't be too useful to me if a couple of thugs with guns can get better of you."

"That happened because I was stupid." She grimaces at the memory of setting the fire. "I let myself be trapped, if not for the fire I could have made it." Somehow, she thinks.

"So you say. But if I took your offer up then I wouldn't be risking only my life but yours as well. Mine I can deal with, I do it all the time. But I'm not going to take you only to have you die."

"But-"

She raises her hand, cutting off Taylor's words.

"I'm thinking about it." Her eyes narrow. "Why the change of heart anyway?"

"I want to make a real difference, I can take care of a few thugs on my own but- with Lung or Oni Lee out of Brockton Bay? That would change things." For her father at least. And so many others too, she knows that, even if she finds it hard to care. But it would be... nice. Nice to see Dad have one less problem in his life, resolved by her no less.

"Hm. Look, if you really want to do this, I'd first need to know if you're capable, you've only just started making a name for yourself Voodoo Doll." That name again, so it's making rounds already?

"Yeah that's- I don't really have a name yet." The woman looks at her strangely.

"And yet that's what the ABB calls you. You mean to tell me that's not a name you use?"

"I don't- I haven't thought of one, didn't think it would be important, what's the difference what they call me?" They both remain silent for a few seconds, uncomfortably so in Taylor's case as the woman keeps eyeing her as if trying to figure something out. "What?"

"Nothing- it's just strange for a cape not to care about their name. If you don't come up with your own then in a week Voodoo Doll is what you'll be known as, it's not that bad a name though, considering," she winces as she says it.

"Considering?"

She opens her mouth and suddenly closes it with a click of her teeth and a grimace on her face. She looks away for a moment before speaking up again.

"Well it isn't Chubster for one." She answers awkwardly.

"Whatever, it's as good as any I guess." Accurate enough for sure.

"Voodoo Doll then. I'll be frank, I don't know if you're capable enough to fight Lung and Oni Lee without being more of a hindrance than help. I have a pretty good idea of what your power is capable of but whether you can use it to its potential- that I'll have to see."

"Like, you want to test me?"

"Want is a pretty big word here. I'd say willing." Well that makes two of them she supposes. "To that end you'd have to go beyond the Docks however, it's dangerous to operate in one area only, easy to lay a trap for you. And if we show up together then I can guarantee you that Lung will pounce on the opportunity."

"Isn't that the point?"

"Not when it's on their terms it isn't." She sighs. "If you want my help then come to the Boat Graveyard at... one AM, Sunday." Her voice takes on a hard edge. "And if it's a trap, I'll make you wish you have given yourself up to the PRT before we're through, you catch all that?" ...well, she doesn't mince her words. Taylor is sure she'd feel weak after hearing the threat, if she could still feel that is.

"Yeah, an hour after midnight, three days from now, you'll rip me to pieces if I double cross you, got it." Simple, easy to remember (which is good given how her memory has been lately), and it's not like she's been planning on making a trap anyway, with whose help? She might have had such lingering thoughts about giving the supervillain and her friend up when they were on their way to the older cape's hideout. Before Purity made it abundantly clear she'd hunt her as well as her family down should Taylor break her trust.

"Alright then, we'll see what you're capable of." She visibly hesitates before speaking up again. "You said you wanted to get home quick? I could drop you off somewhere closer to your- wherever you want? Your clothes are kind of- well, spent."

The girl's blinks owlishly, almost refusing the offer before actually taking a look at her torn and bloodied clothes. Spent might be a bit of an understatement but Purity's right, she looks like she's dug her way out of a grave, or a morgue, she'd be changed into a dress for her funeral. Grave is no place for bullet torn sweatshirt and blood stained- everything really. Neither is the back of a teenage girl on her way home.

"I think I'd like that."

* * *

You know... sometimes, keeping it simple is the best.


	10. Anesthesia 1-10

She can't help but check if the backpack is still on her shoulders every few minutes, she hears people sometimes get this feeling when they suddenly realize they don't feel their phone in their pocket and panic for a second before finding it secure in its place. Good for them, Taylor meanwhile is fairly sure she'll one day lose her fingers while using the kitchen slicer. The tips for sure.

She shrugs the pack off one of her shoulders, deciding to carry it alike a purse. There, she can see the damn thing now at least. No need to wonder if it's opened as it's prone to doing when overstuffed. The streets might be mostly empty but the occasional passer-by could still see the ruin of clothes that Taylor calls her costume packed inside.

There's little point in changing it. She pondered throwing the stuff away but realized that her new outfit would likely get ruined within a week as well, she only has two more sweatshirts in her wardrobe and she'd prefer to avoid messing up another one. And while her "costume" stirs up some less than pleasant memories when she sees the stains and holes in it, the girl is by now fairly proficient in suppressing unwanted thoughts. Useful, especially when her mind wanders back to the day she got her powers.

She'll buy herself a new set eventually of course, behindhand might the thought be but her "costume" doesn't do a good work of changing her appearance, as she's noticed when packing up for tonight. And while she's not going to bother with a proper one (as it would only meet fate similar to her current outfit). She still needs something that will look... not her. So something colorful and perhaps less baggy.

There's a knife at the bottom of the backpack. She would have brought her bat too, had she not lost it on the night she met Purity. She doesn't exactly have the money to replace it so only a knife and needles it is. Her arms and legs are already stuffed with those. Forty to be precise and remembered, puncturing her limbs in such a way that with each movement, at least a few interfere with her muscles. The pink heads marking the punctures make her think of this one human drawing in the biology class onto which notes are attached with pins. She hopes they'll be enough to prevent the needles from wedging deeper into her.

She's curious how exactly should it feel. She hated syringes in what now feels like a different life, back before Mom. Mostly it was just fear because as she grew up, the injections felt barely there, but she still felt them. Unpleasant at the very least, those needles were so much thinner than the stuff she's using right now too. And yet she feels nothing, not even when moving. Three weeks ago there still was some sensation left when she was puncturing her palms (which she knows are more densely innervated than her limbs but still) and now? Now she's walking with the stuff dug some two inches into her legs and she feels not even a faint trace of discomfort.

She takes a considerable sip from her cup.

Well, at least the coffee (not the unholy, muddy concoction of dregs and sugar that she's taken to drinking at home, the one that would land any normal person with a damaged liver) is still prickling at her tongue, so that's nice. Burns supposedly make flesh more sensitive, maybe it's that, maybe it's just that there are more nerves in her mouth... she stops in her tracks, struck with a whim of checking if she'd feel a needle piercing her tongue. She hasn't tried that one yet, if she can feel scalding hot water she should also feel a needle no?

Taylor gulps her drink down and quickens her step after throwing the foam cup away, wanting to test her theory before Purity arrives at their destination. It has occurred to her that they haven't settled on a specific spot of the Boat Graveyard, she'll just have to assume that Purity can find her. Still, she's taken a flashlight to make it a bit easier for the other cape. There's no electricity around after all, the woman could sweep the area what with being a light source of her own but why waste time? The girl can't help but wonder if it's some sort of test.

It takes her a few minutes to reach the desolate place from the point she's been at, and then some more to get farther between the rusted wrecks, she briefly considers using her flashlight to move around in the semi-darkness but decides against it. The sky is clear enough to let through enough light for her to still see. Besides, moving among the sunk wreckage with one of her hands occupied seems like a crappy idea.

It helps that she doesn't feel her hands when climbing from one deck to another, she imagines it'd be difficult to hold onto the rusting edges otherwise. That aside, it should be safe to meet at least. Unless she has the rotten luck in form of a flying hero passing by the area. She'd probably manage to get away though, she's relatively sure she can drop people from the sky if they get in her range, it'd be enough to bash her head into a wall or any similar hard surface... okay, maybe- maybe it's not that great an idea to do that while they're one hundred feet in the air, or even twenty to be honest, they'd break their legs if not their spine in such a fall and that is something Taylor would very much prefer not to add to her growing list of criminal offenses.

The young cape sets her pack beside her feet and listens to the ocean's waves for a short moment, not for the first time trying to imagine the bay as it had once been, alive with movement. She shakes her head, thoughts along with it, and quickly changes into her costume. Hm, maybe she could wash the thing a bit since she's here? Taylor's not sure which is worse, the smell of dried blood or that of seawater? Probably seawater... would it freeze in the current temperature? It must be chilly, Taylor's not sure if the temperature is low enough, she wouldn't be doing any favors to herself by wearing soaked clothes in mid February.

She could just stay in her normal clothes though.

No, scratch that, her backpack would be soaked too. That would be even worse. Urgh.

The girl puts on her goggles and loosely ties the scarf around her mouth. Then rolls up one of her sleeves and picks one of the needles out of her forearm before grabbing her flashlight and turning it on, the light towards her face as she sticks her tongue out.

She slowly pushes the needle through her tongue and yes! There it is! it's not much but it's there, she can feel it, and it's not the "vaguely uncomfortable feeling that's something might be wrong" no. It's "I bit on my tongue an hour ago" sort of feeling. Hmm. Pins. Or something like pins and she could shut anybody up. She only has to work out how to make them stay in her tongue, she doesn't fancy swallowing some by accident. The thought is enough to make her feel uneasy about the needle currently in her mouth and she abruptly sticks her tongue out to take the offending object out of it. Taylor wipes it off and puts it in its place, back inside her forearm. Then covers it up with the sleeve again.

She looks at the sky, it's about time isn't it? She turns her flashlight up, slowly circling it around to quicker catch attention. Hopefully the sort she's hoping for.

She briefly debates sitting down, more out of habit than any real need. She doesn't feel her legs tire. It might very well be they don't tire at all without putting them through intense strain, thanks to her regenerating power. They only give up after running for miles more than what she was capable of before her trigger, and even then she doesn't really feel anything. She's curious how far could she go if she would actually train a bit. Marathons, probably. If she'd learn how to properly breathe anyway.

Pity all the effort would go down the drain the next time she got shot up. her body must take the mass to regenerate from somewhere and try as she might, Taylor can only put so much food in her stomach. Lest she fancies puking it up later. At least she can eat ketchup without getting dizzy again so that's one small victory in her- a flash of light up above catches her attention.

She looks up to see a glowing, vaguely human shape hovering some distance above the ship Taylor is occupying. The girl puts the flashlight away and takes hold of her knife, perhaps it's a bit silly that she feels safer with it in her hand, given who she thinks it is up above. Still, it does no harm.

The figure slowly begins the descent, apparently testing if she's not flying into the girl's aura. Hmpf, really, as if it would help were she actually trying to double cross her. Taylor can switch her aura on and off at any given moment, it takes but a thought. Then again, the last time must have been pretty unpleasant for the woman, she shouldn't be blaming her for being apprehensive of approaching her at a speed similar to that of a falling leaf.

They remain silent even after the older cape makes her landing in front of the lanky girl, illuminating the wreckage they're standing on with her light. Is it weird that it's the first time Taylor notices she actually has a few inches on the ex-villain?

"How are you feeling?" Purity's voice breaks the ice. Why is she looking at her like- oh, oh right she's still holding her knife. The teen quickly puts it away before answering.

"Better." The young cape shrugs, honestly not knowing what more can she possibly say. She's been mostly just resting since last they met, as she's taken to doing on weekends anyway. She might not be able to sleep per se but wasting away in her bed for sixteen hours a day is almost relaxing.

"So," Purity begins. "I suppose we should get to it sho... are those the same clothes from Thursday?" Really? That's the first thing... well costume is probably kind of a big deal to a veteran like her, she's curious how many sets of her own does the woman possess. Her current costume looks fair bit warmer than the stuff she's usually show in on photos. Well, it is still winter.

"Yeah, it's- I figured it'd be a waste to put together something new right now, it'll just get messed up anyway." Shit, there's this weird look again. She's tried talking to a mirror, she has! "Uh... not that I intend to get shot again," too much anyway, she can handle a few bullets just fine. "Or anything, but it's pretty hands on for me you know?" Jesus, is this stress talking? She can't tell without the familiar knot that used to form in her stomach. Stop, just stop. "Just now though. I'll replace it. Later." Finally!

Her company appears to be as disturbed as she is amused by the display, good. Well, not good but at least she's not making a face.

"It's your image Voodoo Doll. I won't fault your fashion choices." Not in words as such it seems.

Taylor clears her throat. "Should we get started?"

"Lets. Lets talk about your abilities first, both powered and otherwise, I'll present mine when relevant. Do you agree?"

"I guess?" She doesn't have better ideas if that's what she's being asked. Besides, if they're going to do this then they should probably know each others' abilities... granted, they both pretty much already know the gist of it, it's hard not to know of Purity when one's a Brocktonite, and the woman has experienced Taylor's... or rather Voodoo Doll's powers- now that she's taken the given name as her own- first hand.

"Alright then, am I correct in assuming that you replace your target's physical sensations?" Huh?

"I'm not sure? The people on PHO were not exactly-" yes, why would she NOT mention that particular screw up? "-uh, detailed."

"I know." Oh. "Which is why I asked, you mean you don't know?"

"You're the first person I used my power on and can still talk with," she drawls. "So you probably know more about it than I do... I mean I know I can make others feel what I should but from the other side? Not much."

"What you should? So I'm correct in assuming you don't feel pain?" Ah... should she tell? She probably should if they are to work together, it seems like an important detail that she won't be able to react to physical stimuli less severe than a stab wound... in the field anyway.

"I-" her voice sounds weak even to her own ears, she starts wringing her hands. "It's not that, I don't feel stuff, almost at all." It's true enough. If pincers messing around with her insides don't even make her flinch, if cutting her flesh to the bone only sort of hurts and if getting shot multiple times can be compared to bruising? Hell, she barely noticed the last few bullets. Does her power adjust to her needs or was it just adrenaline? She doesn't feel the needles at all anymore.

The prospect scares her. Will she end up not capable of feeling even her pain? She's already reduced to but one form of enjoyable sensation and if this anesthesia is getting stronger then-

"Wait, elaborate." Purity interrupts her inner thoughts and Taylor is only too glad to focus on something else ...when has she crossed her arms?

"I don't feel things normally, pain among it yeah but stuff like... touch, or temperature or, uh. I just have a really high- noticing threshold I guess. Look." She rolls up both her sleeves now and extends them toward the white clad woman, pulling out a needle to show just what is she carrying in her person. Cautiously gauging the Blaster's reaction to seeing what she has to show. "These? I don't feel them at all, I don't even know how much they're supposed to hurt."

The luminescent cape's fists clench, her eyes glued to Taylor's uncovered limb, she works her mouth for a moment before her eyes snap to Taylor's own. Ugh. Good thing she doesn't need to see right now because the light spots that the other cape's glow leaves in the girl's eyes take away about half her vision when they're looking directly at each other.

"Excuse me for saying but this is unsettling, do you... normally carry them around like that?" She sounds weird, Taylor can't quite pin it down but it reminds her of Miss Militia's tone of voice when she revealed her power to her. Distressed? Queasy? Some mix of both.

"No I just figured I could do it for tonight. You know, to show you some of what I can do?"

"...right." Taylor stares at the vigilante, has she just... squeaked? "That's certainly... creative." Probably the most creative thing she's done in a month. A giggle bubbles in Taylor's throat as she puts the needle back in her arm but she forces it down before it sounds like more than a snort. Impressions, she's making impressions. She doesn't want the other cape to think her unhinged.

She's not.

"So, things I should know about you other than that you fly and blast people back to- that you blast people?"

"Other than I hit like a truck?" She still sounds off but she's trying, Taylor can tell. "Remember what I told you about things you shouldn't tell?" She nods. It's hard to forget, Purity has made sure of that. "It's one of these things. I'm stronger in the sunlight in addition to other minor perks, the gist of it is that it grants me more power." Ah, that means- it means- ugh. Good intentions notwithstanding, she can't replace proper sleep with caffeine, well, not the sort sold at petrol stations at any rate. "That's why I work in daylight sometimes."

Wait-wait-wait.

"Wait. So we'd fight Lung during day?"

"If," Christ, she even points her index finger at her, is she a teacher by chance? "If we fight him then it would be preferable, yes. Would that be a problem?" Well it's not like Taylor has anything to do at home for about- most of the day bar reading books or doing homework... that is usually stolen or destroyed later anyway. No friends to hang out with, she and Dad haven't done anything together ever since Mom. No she should be free in the afternoons, every day of the week, of every month. Though thinking that far into the future is probably a pointless exercise.

"No. That's fine." She can always skip school if something comes up, big deal. The only people that would really notice her absence would probably be the trio. Yeah, like she's going to bother with them.

"Okay then, let's figure out what you can do. Can you use your power on separate parts of your body?" Easily too.

"Yes, done that already."

"Good, show me, lets start with your arms, left one for now." Taylor starts. This is- different. She wasn't expecting Purity to offer herself as a test subject for her power. More something alongside having to beat some thugs up with her watching, not this.

She nods nonetheless, suspecting her voice to squeak should she open her mouth. It's strange to have someone willingly submit to her power.

She lets her arms fall to her sides before doing as asked. The moment she does, a soft breath escapes Purity's mouth and her eyes widen ever so slightly. The woman waves the younger parahuman off when she shoots her a questioning look. She then proceeds to shake her arm and massage it with the unaffected other.

"It feels like it's still at my side. And different too, too small, not mine. Wrong." Her voice is calm, more curious than anything else. "And it doesn't hurt at all, your healing factor at work I presume, do something with it."

Well if she's asking... The girl stretches her arms and the effect is instantaneous, the alabaster clad cape gasps and grits her teeth but signals Taylor to continue, so she firmly clasps her free hand over the one she lets Purity feel and twists her muscles. The woman hisses in reaction, her face contorting again. The teen lets it go, deeming it enough for a presentation for now. A couple of seconds pass before Purity speaks up.

"It doesn't impede you at all?" She asks while extending her arm, sparing it a wary look. Taylor shakes her head in answer, should it? She can't tell, she has no experience of this kind from before getting her powers. "How many needles are there? fifteen?"

"Ten. For each limb." She has to remember. Does it feel like more?

"Ugh. I imagine it would be quite effective in a fight. The fact I can't feel my arm alone is very off-putting and when you move? Those needles of your disrupt muscle movement-" Well that's sort of the idea. "-and it's hard to ignore. They still don't hurt that much though. Do you know how to fight in melee?"

"Not really, though I haven't had trouble with anyone without a gun."

"I can see why, use your power again. Whole body this time and walk around a bit."

The woman's breathing becomes heavy and strained the moment Taylor complies. Her hands move as if to clutch her head before halting halfway, shaking. The woman straightens up from her slouched posture and takes an experimental step, and then another. It takes her a few moments but she figures out how to move, albeit on unsteady, wobbly legs. Taylor stops her pacing and bounces on the balls of her feet instead, drawing a grunt from the other cape and forcing her to a stumbling stop.

"Enough," it's Purity that stops her this time, she keeps scratching at her chest even after Taylor stops using her power, an uneasy grimace on her lips "I think I have an idea of what you can do, did you know you leave a sort of phantom feeling after you're finished? Your legs are cramped up, by the way." She crouches down and massages her own. Taylor does nothing, she can't feel her legs anyway. "Your power is good for close-quarter combat but I think you'll do more good in area control, what is your range anyway?" she continues when she stands up.

"Some one hundred feet in radius, I think it can get everyone in the range too... I need to see the target if want to get someone specific though. Ah! And it works on animals too." She almost forgot that part, hasn't tried again ever since the beginning.

"So it might work on Changers, good. It's a pity you're not a Brute, you get hit- you're out. Although I'll admit, it takes effort to even walk when your power's switched on, the more you move the worse it gets too. Fighting like that would be a stretch. And with every hit you take..." She trails off, a thoughtful frown creasing her brown. "Your headache is terrible, do you feel it?"

"Yes," unfortunately. "It's more like a dull ache though, the kind preventing you from sleeping." The woman tilts her head.

"I can imagine," she groans and takes a few steps back then floats just a foot into the air. "We'll see if I'm correct about you Voodoo Doll, throw me to the ground, I won't use all my powers but you feel free to do so. Start when you're ready."

Taylor blinks a few times before her brain catches up with the request. The woman wants to spar. With her, a teenager Sure, she says she's limiting herself but she's still one of the most powerful capes in the city, more experienced as well. She probably doesn't want to make a wet smear out of her helper just yet though so this might not be a total embarrassment.

Unbeknown to Taylor, a small smile blossoms on her lips.

She unleashes her aura this time, it's easier this way. The moment she does so, Purity's floating becomes rickety and by the time the teen moves towards her, she's already forced to make a landing. The next part however is not so easy, the woman jerks away from her reach though she does so while almost tripping herself. Her eyes, however, remain sharp, be it from pain or hard learned focus, Taylor knows not.

She continues her assault by ducking low under a sluggish right hook and trying to tackle the woman, unsuccessfully, as before she can grab her adversary's leg, her vision shakes and she can feel her headache spiking. She staggers away to the accompaniment of the other cape's curses, shakes her head and attacks again, opting not to bother with avoiding the punch this time and instead taking it on her arm.

Purity stops her fist at the last moment and steps out of the way, her limbs twitching and face twisted, then immediately strikes with an elbow to Taylor's side, following that with a punch with her other fist. Taylor only notices because the force behind it pushes her away. A quick glance at Purity tells her that the attack should have forced her to protect her right side, if the woman's leaning to her own tells her anything.

It's Purity that attacks again, with a couple of quick steps and a faint she throws a solid punch to Taylor's chest, it knocks the wind out of the girl but having prepared for it, she doesn't stagger this time, and although she lands not even one hit of her own, she prompts the other cape to jump- no. Leap away from her, she must be using her power to do that, a twenty feet jump backwards isn't exactly within regular human realm of possibility. Taylor unconsciously bites her lip, thinking of a way to bring the woman onto her back. Her moves are sluggish, jittery at times, she clearly has trouble moving and she's gasping for air as if after a solid run.

Problem is, she's also a much better fighter, leagues apart from Taylor in fact. In spite of the teen's advantage in form of her power she still hasn't managed to even touch her. It's impressive to be honest, the people she used her power on up till now have been much, much less coordinated. Acting as if what they felt was happening to them, Purity isn't (granted, she knows how her opponent's power works). Even though she's evidently struggling to as much as walk.

She wonders just how much she can take before she'll lose her control.

Warily, Taylor closes in on the woman, massaging her arms while doing so, encouraging her opponent to make her move, she doesn't. She simply starts circling Taylor when the distance between then is enough to be crossed in two leaps and the younger cape raises her arms to protect herself, Purity is clearly trying not to hit her limbs, so she should provide her with every possibility of doing just that.

She tries to kick the woman's legs out from under her and the next thing she knows is that she's observing the partially hidden moon on the night sky, blinking the darkness away from her eyes.

"Again," Purity curtly says. "This might be enough for a two bit thug but not for me, get up."

She does, still unsure of what just happened. The other parahuman must have tripped her when Taylor tried doing that to her, well. Case in point, screw the fighting, she can't win like that.

The next hit she throws, lands in her own side in the same place Purity hit her, the trauma might have healed already, it might have not, doesn't matter. If it has then it's surely back in place now, as she lands one hit after another while walking circles around the luminescent woman, and there, Purity is the one forced to act this time. Taylor doesn't try to hit her, only staying out of reach of the woman, which is not that hard considering she's moving both faster and more steadily than her opponent. It seems to be the right thing to do for after a minute or two of this dance, Purity becomes considerably slower than she was in the beginning.

Eventually, her moves slow down enough for Taylor to drive a fist into her opponent's side,the woman doesn't as much as flinch, she can feel nothing that's her own after all. Her body does, however, draw in on itself for a short moment, the moment Taylor uses to tackle Purity. Making them both fall to the ground.

The teen quickly switches her power off and pulls away, sitting beside her companion.

"Are you okay?" she asks after a moment of near silence, interrupted only by their laboured breathing among the sound of waves. Taylor might not get tired exactly but the less said about the capacity of her lungs the better.

"Yeah, yeah just- That was unpleasant to say the least." She sharply sits up, crossing her legs beneath her, Taylor can't help but stare at the dimly lit rust sticking to her costume. Do capes just use washing machines for this stuff? It's... it feels strange to think of the villain (or ex-villain) doing her laundry like any normal person. "Good job, although that was the worst fighting ah- lets call it style for now- that I've seen in a long time." She adds, a teasing note in her voice making Taylor turn her eyes away, embarrassed by the remark. "It makes me wonder what you could do if you actually knew anything about fighting. Stick to what you've shown in the second round for tonight though, it should be enough for what I have in mind." Tonight?

"So that means you agree?"

Taylor stands up and Purity follows, still not quite steady on her legs.

"It means that you're going to help me if you want to continue with this thing. ABB territory tonight but if we find nothing, we'll go after the Merchants next time." Ugh, she hopes they do find something then, she doesn't care about the merchants that much. But if it means taking down Lung in the long run then she can deal with it, the whole lot are scum anyway.

She nods her ascent.

"Right, ground rules first." Rules? Isn't she a villain? Or an ex-villain anyway? "You listen to me, I say jump you jump, and I mean that literally sometimes in case you wonder," ...okay. That's... really something requiring either complete trust or complete lack of care. She nods in understanding. "Run your ideas past me first, some might be good but trust me, most won't be." The girl opens her mouth to protest but her treacherous mind supplies her with a memory of the fire she started the last time she went out. Alright, she concedes, that is probably a sound idea.

Besides, if she's to be completely honest with herself, isn't that why she reached out to Purity in the first place? To have somebody stronger and more experienced make proper use of her? A person who knows better than her what has to be done. Someone who can make it happen.

"Okay."

The woman blinks.

"Just like that?" What, was she expecting an argument?

"Yeah. Is that wrong?" Is this some sort of test that she's not aware of?

"I- no! No- it's..." she rakes her hand through her hair, looking distinctly thrown off. "I just- nevermind."

Taylor looks around in search of whatever is it that has the woman act so put off but finds nothing. Weird.

"So," she breaks the uncomfortable silence. "Where exactly are we going?"

* * *

How do you know how do needles wedged into your limbs feel like? Why, you grab a box of 2 inches long pins and gather empirical evidence XD


	11. Anesthesia 1-11

"Shouldn't we call the police?" Taylor asks when the last of the men they've confronted falls to the ground, unconscious, after having his head smashed into a wall by Purity. He's kind of unlucky, he got his arm broken whilst the others have only suffered a dislocated joint or two. It's... vaguely unsettling for the girl to see her ally acting with such violence. Not because she feels upset about it but because she thinks she ought to be and the feeling just isn't there.

"It's hardly worth the effort," the woman answers while picking up the mobiles off the group and then drops them all, creating a pile which she blasts into pieces with a small bolt of light. "How many did you apprehend on your own by tonight?"

"Uh... twelve I think?" Plus minus. She's not counting, it's just hard to forget those encounters.

"Then I'll tell you something I've learned over the years, maybe one or two of them were charged with anything. Most of the time there's nothing on the normals in the database. Regardless of them having or not committed a crime. There need to be witnesses, physical evidence or authority figure testimony at least to put them in jail." She stretches her shoulders while speaking. "But broken bones might set them straight. Getting beaten up by a parahuman is different from the same happening at the hands of another normal. You saw just now, they were pretty much helpless and that gets to people."

She did see. Albeit from the sideline as all she had to do was keep using her power on the gang and let Purity take care of the rest. "Easiest cleanup in months" she's told. And Taylor can believe it, the men all but fell over once the young cape had them in her zone. She's almost tempted to try her power on Purity when she doesn't expect it to see if the effect would be similar.

Then again, it's likely a better idea to actually convince the woman to allow her to surprise her at some point in the future. She's already helped her figure out a bit more about her power after all.

"Anyway," Purity continues. "You've heard them talking. Getting rid of a weapon stash should be of particular interest to you. Do you by chance know the area?"

"Not really." She only knows that it's a bad neighborhood, a kind of place fathers tell their daughters not to go to. Or at least she thinks they do, hers does.

"You know, I've been in this city for years and I still don't know it whole. One would think flying would make it easier. Oh, by the way, let me just carry you on my back this time. My arms go numb after a few minutes of carrying you... uh, not- not that you weight too much." Taylor looks down at herself. She's not that thin is she? She did drop some pounds and she's been having trouble putting them back on but surely, it can't be that bad. Her ribs barely show!

"If you think that's for the best." She replies with just a touch of agitation. What does Purity know anyway?

"Not too tight?" She asks when she wraps her arms around the woman. She doesn't want to grip hard enough to make her uncomfortable but falling off on a sharp turn is something she'd rather avoid. They fly low enough she might not die on the spot, a broken spine is the sort of injury that still fills her with trepidation, with just about anything else she can just follow through and be done with it, but paralysis?

Instead of answering, Purity adjusts the younger cape's hands by herself.

"Keep them like that, I'll sign you if you need to adjust, just keep them off my neck and it should be good enough." A thought strikes Taylor as they take off. The last time she was given a piggyback ride she was eleven. And Dad was none too pleased with her grip too. She buries her head against Purity's shoulder and turns it to the side to block off the light emitting from the woman's hair. At this proximity she' be almost completely blind after just a few seconds of looking at it. She's fairly sure her grip tightens when she takes a look down, but her ride doesn't complain.

Flying is... nice she supposes, as long as she doesn't think about the height too much. It might not be everything she had hoped it would be, what with not being able to feel the air against her skin, or the rush of speeding through it... actually no, it fucking sucks. It's nothing like she had hoped it would be, she could as well be watching a video and it would make not a iota of difference beside maybe not triggering her fear of heights. She can't hear a damn thing over the roaring air either. The movies lie, though that is something she's already getting used to by now. If only the gangsters were given the aim of the stormtroopers... they're stopping?

"What's wrong?" she asks when they come to a halt, not quite shouting but still having to be loud in order to be heard over the wind.

"Nothing, we're here." They descend down upon a roof of a tenement, one of the many decrepit buildings in the area. They don't look ready to fall apart just yet but give them a year or two and they will surely become a safety hazard. Well, good luck to the brave officers who dare to try and break the news to the tenants.

The girl turns in circle in the search for the building they're after, this flying business messes with her sense of orientation, especially when she's not paying close attention to the changing surroundings.

She comes to a sudden stop, confused, she looks in the direction her body has jerked towards and sees Purity's hand clasping her arm, the other pointing at a slightly less rotten, three stories tall building. Huh, it's a bit anti-climatic really. She's been expecting to find a complete hovel and meanwhile it's the only structure around that looks like it wouldn't collapse if she drove a car into it. Now that she thinks about it, it sorta makes sense that a gang hideout would be the best maintained place around, it's a poor area after all.

"So um- what do we do?" she asks the alabaster cape. Who has kept silent after landing, the woman crosses her arms and starts tapping her chin with a finger. A short moment passes before a slight smile appears on her lips.

"What do you think we should do?" What? She- is she still testing her?

"I- I don't know. You mean like, how to go in or how to use my powers?"

"You tell me." She is messing with her, Taylor is sure of that, the smirk touching her lips can't possibly mean anything else ...adults, seriously.

"Um... the building has- six?-"

"Four."

"-apartments," ah, so the last two upper windows are either on attic level or a part of the other houses. That... doesn't tell her much at all. "Are those- all ABB places or no?" She'd hate to ruin someone innocent's night.

"Affiliates at the very least. The weapons will most likely be in two places. So that one can be reached even if the other is being raided. Five, maybe six people in total, there may be less though." Taylor wonders just how many times has the woman done this to be able to tell all these things, it is reassuring though.

"On different floors?"

"Yeah." It's with mixed feelings that the approval in her voice fills the girl. What is her life? She's lapping up compliments from an ex-nazi.

"So, we split up? One for each floor, take down whoever's inside and lets hope we get the right place first?" That seems... basic. Purity chuckles.

"Not exactly rocket science huh? The more intricate the plan the worse it will fall apart if you ask me. Let's go."

No wait there's- "How do we get in? I mean- I could knock but..." The woman freezes at the question, and then facepalms.

"I keep forgetting you people can't just-" She groans, wait, she's blushing! Taylor only partially manages to hold her snort in. "Yeah, laugh it up. Anyway, I'll blow the doors off- all of them. Normally I'd move in through a window but I doubt you'll find a convenient crowbar lying around. We'll have to make a list of the things you need to carry."

"Crowbar?" The thought of using one is strange, almost worrying in a sense. Aren't burglars the ones who use them? Hm, on the other hand, does it differ that much from just ripping doors apart via powers?

Wait... are they the burglars here? Did she break and enter to that tenement she burned down on Thursday? It was abandoned with the exception of that one flat but still.

"Unless you want to learn how to pick locks? I'm afraid I can't show you though, never learned it myself." Huh, that's actually kind of relieving after a fashion. In the 20's movie mafias 'we're gangsters not thieves' sort of way. "You could use it as a weapon too if you're not too concerned about your image." They're already working together, how is a crowbar going to make things any worse if Purity smashing through windows and doors is apparently a thing?

Having a solid bar of steel in her hands does sound nice though, especially when compared to only possessing a flimsy knife that she has on her person at the moment. Dammit, she should have bought another can of pepper spray, it makes things so much easier, even if she looks like a snotty monstrosity afterwards.

"Alright, lets get to it." The next thing Taylor knows, she's being scooped up by the woman and carried to the street bridal style. Faster that way on short distance she supposes but still, an indignant squeak leaves her when she's swept off her feet. "You take the ground floor, ready?" her partner says once they land.

"Gimme a sec," she replies, having already taken her backpack off and now fishing for the knife. She throws the bag to the ground once she finds it. "Yeah, ready." Hm, she's suddenly feels much less sleepy, must be adrenaline. What would she give to feel it pumping through her veins once more, she might not have liked it before but she'll take the feeling of weightlessness over this numbness any day.

"Close your eyes." She doesn't, she should have. The realization comes when the woman extends her hand and a blinding white light forms in her palm. It doesn't hurt but the blind spot it creates in Taylor's vision takes most of her sight away. She barely pays attention when the light bolt crashes into the front door, ripping a sizable hole through it. She's still blinking the blindness away when Purity moves forward, she tilts her googles up and rubs her eyes before hurriedly following.

The inside isn't much. Just a hall with a staircase leading to the upper floor with a door on each side, same as below. There also seems to be a communal bathroom opposite of the front. Some commotion coming from the apartments can already be heard. Purity raises her hands and this time around the teen instantly turns her head away, she can still see a flash of light from behind her closed eyelids.

"Good luck." The woman simply says before taking off the ground to the floor above, light flooding the staircase again. Right.

She clutches her knife harder and enters the apartment to her left. A blinding explosion and a rain of splinters follows her when she steps through the door. What she finds inside once she flips the light on is... surprising in its normalcy. Two simple rooms, the bigger one, the one she's actually in as it's connected to the outside, seems to be a living room with a kitchenette and all the stuff one can expect to find in both, if a bit cluttered. The second one is closed. Wait, that's an analog TV. They don't make these anylonger-

A loud crash somewhere above snaps her out of her musings. Wow, good job, she spaced out during a task. She shakes her head and quickly makes sure there's no one in the room. Then prepares herself for a fight as she readies to open the closed door-

-only to find the smaller room empty. Well that's anti climatic (especially so in the accompaniment of shouts both in English and not coming from the other floor). Not that she's complaining, not exactly. But it would be kind of embarrassing if she doesn't find a soul in the places she's supposed to clear, leaving Purity to do all the job by herself.

She lunges inside when a bullet whistles past her ear.

Nope! No- nevermind. There's definitely someone for her to take care of, armed too. Well duh, this place is supposed to have weapons. A couple of gunshots ring out a floor above, Taylor holds her breath in for a second before another explosion sounds. Right, she should worry about herself a bit more.

She takes a quick peek outside the room and apartment, but sees nothing. The other doorway is blown wide open but there's no light inside, making it difficult to spot anyone, if the shooter is even in there and not in the hall or even outside by now. And it's a problem, she must get closer in order to see and to do that she has to- no wait, there's a window here. She doesn't have to get out the same way she came in. Yeah, jumping back out onto the street seems like a much better idea.

She does exactly that, pointedly ignoring how the sounds of fighting upstairs change into screams of pain. Then quickly trots to the front door, where she almost stumbles into two women, one in a loose T-shirt and boxers, the second garbed in day clothes and watching the door to the apartment Taylor has left. Both of them with guns in their hands but neither with shoes on. They've had quite a rude awakening she supposes.

The thugs react first, the closer one slamming the butt of her pistol into Taylor's face with enough force behind it to crack the vigilante's goggles. She reels back with the hit, not anticipating it to hurt her more than its recipient, who for her part does not feel it at all. Barely taking a step back to steady herself, then lash out with a cut to the woman's hands to disarm her. She'd prefer to use something less sharp but since when do cut knuckles hurt?

The second gangbanger staggers further into the hall after the hit Taylor takes. Seeming dazed but not enough to drop her weapon. No matter. The girl misses her knife strike, mostly because her target trips and falls onto her back (her needles' fault probably) though she still tries to fight. Tries being the operative word as the cape easily kicks the gun out of her hand and then delivers another hit to the side of her head, knocking her out. Taylor wonders if it would hurt the woman more to feel her own body or not.

Probably not.

The second thug in the meanwhile, for all her efforts to stay on her feet, has fallen on her ass. Taylor would laugh at the sight were it not for the gun pointed her way, held in the woman's shaking hands.

A sharp pang, somewhere between her collarbone and neck she thinks, accompanies the gunshot. It even manages to force a grunt out of the teen but it's nothing compared to the scream of pain that leaves the Asian's throat just before she promptly passes out.

...huh.

She puts her hand beneath her scarf to check how much blood is there. Well-

Not changing her costume just yet has definitely been a good idea.

She looks into the second apartment, upon seeing no immediate threat she puts her knife away into her sweatshirt's pocket(it's not like adding another hole can take away from its charm at this point) and reaches with her still clean hand to see if there's a blood smear on her back too. It's hard to tell if the wound is there when she can't feel the rest of her back.

Yup, her other hand's all bloody too now. One less thing to worry about. She already has to deal with the cracks in her goggles for the rest of the night.

A thump sounds from above, over the still not secured apartment on Taylor's floor. Right, she has to check if there's somebody left inside.

She presses her scarf more firmly to the base of her neck to stem the blood until she heals up and steps into the other flat. She finds it blissfully empty once she flips the lights on. Good, her neck feels a bit strained right now, she can appreciate the feeling but would prefer it to heal before having to fight again.

She looks around, idly wondering where the weapons are hidden. Eh, not a part of her job. If there's no one left to use them then they aren't a problem.

"You alright down there?!" her ally's voice rings.

"I mean I think?!" She shouts back while looking for a mirror. She needs to see what exactly has happened to her neck, she hopes the shot hasn't popped an artery. She's not sure if they can knit back that well after a bullet shot. Maybe. She hopes. She wouldn't bleed out regardless but she'd much rather avoid necrosis, it would be difficult to explain.

Ah! There it is, a hand mirror resting upon a coffee table, there's even a cup of half-finished, cold coffee beside it. Which she's not going to drink, no. Certainly. Who knows what's in it? Well caffeine for one, who would even add anything else to the mix? Not everybody's a druggie and what sort of idiot would spice-

She forcefully turns her eyes away from the mixture, grabs the mirror and tugs down her scarf.

The plastic squeaks in her grip.

It's not that bad. She's gotten the low side of her neck shot right through, thankfully low enough for anything with a collar to easily cover it up. The blood is not that extensive either, only staining her shoulder and collar beside the scarf. Why then do her hands quiver?

Why does her whole body?

She drops the mirror, letting it crash on the floor, her hand going right back to her neck. She shouldn't have looked, it's not even bleeding anymore and now she's gone and messed up. Her breathing grows erratic and a very familiar retch racks her body. No, nonono. Not now. She presses her free hand against her heart and closes her eyes. Supplying every memory she can think of to her mind that is not that of a neck sliced open, or that of her own. She pushes music, movies, faces and voices into those images place. She's become quite good at it over the last month.

Her breath is still heavy when she finally relaxes, but it's fine. She's fine. Give it another month and it will pass altogether. She only has to forget, push it away. Not look at it.

Her hands drop to her sides, right. Out of sight out of mind. There will be a scar but a scar is easy, it's silver not red. She shakes her head and hastily walks out of the flat, intent on distracting herself.

She looks up.

"We are calling police this time right?" Her voice is not quite under her control just yet but she manages a shout. The building might have gone quiet but it seems like the entire neighborhood has woken up to compensate, dogs in especial.

"Yeah! Wait up!" A second later something flies out of a broken door upstairs and bounces off Taylor's head. Zip ties? Ah, handcuffs, three pairs. Okay, it's hard to misinterpret what the other cape wants her to do.

She is only halfway through restraining the second ABB thug when Purity walks down the stairs, a smile on her lips and dust coating her costume.

"Heh, not as easy as it-" She freezes for a fraction of a second, suddenly pale, (she thinks. It's not easy to tell with the white light she's emitting) before she walks up to the girl wearing a frown on her face. "You said you were okay. What happened?"

"It's nothing, I checked." She shouldn't have. "It's not even bleeding by now" She pulls on the plastic ties, finally finishing her task. "I just need to wash up and I'll be as good as new."

"Let me see," she says calmly.

"No seriously I-"

"I said let me see." Her voice is still calm but there's an edge to it that tells Taylor there's little point in refusing. She grudgingly exposes her neck. Purity purses her lips and reaches out to touch the wound.

"See? Fine. I'm not even winded." It's likely closed by now as there's but a faint trace of feeling left in the area. Pity.

"You would be if it went two inches left." She takes a step back, something between relief and annoyance tinting her voice. "Please be more careful, I know you Brutes think you can take on the world but it's the rest of us who picks up your bodies."

"I- sure." It's not like she planned to get shot. She pulls the now red scarf up again. "Uh, we're staying here?" She asks, seeing the woman stand still.

"Just for a moment, take one of their phones and call the police. Tell them that you're a cape and you've busted an ABB weapon cache plus... were there more than these two?" she points at the passed out women.

"No."

"Plus six possible arms dealers then, just that and location. They should have already received calls about shooting in the area so they'll take it seriously. Meanwhile, there's a safe waiting up there," she points upwards with her thumb.

"A safe?" Is it legal to take its content? She's been left confused about how the spoils system works ever since her first night out.

"Yes, they keep them sometimes." The woman answers while already walking up the stairs. "Not that often, they usually have money hidden in walls and such, but-" she trails off when she steps through one of the broken doors.

...that's not what she meant.

She shakes her head, deciding to ask again later and wanders off to find a phone. She goes back into the second apartment, to the small bedroom where she saw a mobile lying on a nightstand. She dials the number while going over what she's supposed to say and steps out of the building to retrieve her backpack. Yup, they've definitely woken up a lot of people if the lights are any tell. It's not even a full signal before her call is received.

"911 what's your emergency?" A male voice sounds from the other side.

"Uh," right, just say what Purity said. "I'm a cape and I want to report a busted weapon cache at Moore seventeen." She throws her backpack on. "There are six people tied and unconscious in there, um, right now I mean." how long does it take to wake up from what she did? Or from whatever Purity did?

A loud, metallic thump comes from the building. The safe, presumably. She steers her steps inside and up to see what exactly is Purity doing.

"Right miss, can I ask for your-" she cuts the call and leaves the phone on one of the steps she's walking up.

It's a sight to see what Purity has done to the upper floor. There's little left of the doors but splinters, even the walls have not gone undamaged. She can't see into one of the flats as the light isn't turned on inside but the one which Purity is now illuminating with her glow? It's gutted, there are two men lying on the ground with their hands tied. Surrounded by pieces of furniture and broken glass, there are scorch marks everywhere and even the thugs themselves are singed.

She flips on the light. Purity might be doing a good impression of a flashlight but the place can use some color. The woman glances at her over her shoulder and goes back to filling a plastic bag with rolls of banknotes from the small safe.

"I- are we supposed to be taking this?" It's still technically stealing.

"I'm some ninety-five percent sure it's illegal made money. Vigilantes are allowed to take cash from stashes like this. Though it's frowned upon if you do it without the PRT knowing." Her expression twists as if she ate a lemon. "I'm not exactly recognized as a vigilante though so I don't think they will mind." She stands up when finished, looks Taylor over and throws her a roll of bills that the teen fails to catch.

"I don't want it." She says as she's picking the money off the ground, giving it a look normally reserved for something stuck to a shoe sole.

"Pecunia non olet. You could put together a new costume for it, who better to pay for it than the criminals you take out?" That... it makes sense yes but she has to wonder if that's how it starts. "Count it, take however much you'll need and give me the rest if you're squeamish about dirty money." She snorts. "You know, I remember being like that too once, not wanting to use it I mean." She crosses her arms while saying that and shakes her head.

The girl scoffs. "Is that supposed to be reassuring?"

"Thinking out loud more like. Seriously though, take it. The police, PRT, Protectorate and even the Wards get paid for doing the same thing we just did, you're not loosing any moral ground by accepting a reward." Taylor tenses up and looks down at the roll in her hands. She scowls and takes the rubber band off. She'd need to wait two weeks for her allowance. But even thinking about wasting Dad's money on clothes she'll no doubt ruin leaves a sour taste in her mouth. Their house gets by, but no more than that.

"One hundred," she says once she finishes counting and looks up to find the woman observing the street outside the shattered window.

"Seems about right, they usually put one or two hundred together in these. Keep it, buy a costume or a dri- uh, a dinner, whatever suits your fancy." She rushes to say.

One hundred. Supposedly hers. It's... a moderate amount she supposes, just about enough to let her buy a new sweatshirt and pants (granted, of better quality than her current ones)with enough leftover to purchase a real combat knife. Maybe even a crowbar as the other cape had suggested.

She puts the roll into her pocket. For once, she's glad she can't feel a thing, her guts are sure to be churning.

"Come on," says Purity. "Lets clean up."

* * *

She is very pointedly looking at her own feet while the woman is changing out of her costume, apparently not finding being in state of undress in front of the girl at all uncomfortable the way the teenager herself does. She wonders if she's blushing.

It's her second time in Purity's lair, but it's the first time she's seen its location. An unconscious smile blossoms on her lips at the thought of being trusted enough to be allowed that knowledge. Even if the place itself is surprisingly normal at the first glance, just a small house in a run-down area. She has to say though, she would never make the mistake of assuming somebody to live here. No decorations, barely any furniture, none looking anything less than utilitarian. It's strange to even look at.

"You did good tonight." Taylor glances up to confirm that yes, the white haired woman is finished changing. She looks... weird. Maybe it's just that Taylor isn't used to seeing her outside her alabaster costume. But honestly? Her glow just doesn't fit with the more casual beige sweater and brown jeans, to the point where the least strange thing about her is the pink towel in her hand. "You could go without getting shot but I'll let it pass." Let it pa- oh. She's joking. Trying to anyway.

She doesn't know what to say. So she keeps silent.

"Uh, right. Look, if you have any second thoughts, you can still leave. I won't hold it against you." Second thoughts? Why would she have second thoughts? She probably couldn't handle the six thugs they took out tonight on her own. Not if they all had had guns on them. If she even could get into the building that is, and then into the separate flats. She highly doubts knocking on the door would work with five of them in her way. It worked well enough once but there was also but one door to get.

"I'm still in." A feeling of uncertainty overcomes her. "Unless- you don't want me to?" Is this why she's being given an out?

"N-no! It's just... You've seen how I operate. Some would find it disagreeable." She supposes she doesn't exactly like how... brutal, the woman can get. But it's not like she can say she truly cares either. Besides, who is she to talk? A killer, an arsonist, and a few other things she prefers not to think about.

"I won't pity gangsters." Purity's eyes shift away. Oh. "I- I didn't mean you, I mean the bad ones, you know. The ones who beat people up and... and I- I'll shut up now." Purity, however, simply chuckles at the faux pas.

"It's fine. If you go around afraid to hurt anyone's feelings you'll stay forever silent. I'm a grown woman, I can face my past, even if I would prefer to forget it." She falls silent for a moment before offering her the towel. "Anyway, the shower is behind that door over there. We'll talk more when you're clean and changed." Taylor simply nods in answer, grabs her backpack and follow the vigilante's directions.

The bathroom is a small one, outfitted only with bare necessities, keeping the simple style of the entire building. Even the tiles are gray. Hm, come to think of it, everything is rather dark in Purity's base when the woman is not around. The lights, while there, are almost dull compared to her own blinding radiance.

She quickly discards her clothing, but before stepping into the shower, she washes her neck at the sink, never once looking at her reflection in the mirror above it before the water is no longer colored brown and red. That's when she finally finds it in herself to look again.

It's- really not that bad when one considers her power, now that the wound is clean. There's a very real possibility that it would be a source of chronic aches to a normal person. But she's not just anyone is she now? The teen rubs the small scar, and it is small, the exit wound is slightly bigger but it's hardly a cause for concern. Her skin doesn't look any more dead than that on the other side of her neck so even if her arteries have been grazed, they're fine now.

And yet, her hands still tremble when she's looking at the blemished skin, her face is rapidly changing from its usual pale color to an even more sickly one. Her mind's eye readily supplying the image she saw in the mirror back there. Her eyes snap to the toothbrush standing in the cup on the sink and she focuses on replaying a toothpaste ad in her head.

She pushes herself away from the sink, determined not to look in the mirror for at least a day, and begins the process of taking out all the needles out of herself. All forty of them, barely any even bloodied. The small punctures disappear within seconds and Taylor puts her tools into a box from her pants before stepping into the shower.

The temperature she sets the water to would have been painfully hot a month ago. It works well to get the blood off of her though, and she has trouble washing her back without feeling her skin. Her hair is a bit bloody as well, her ponytail sticking to her back.

She ponders on the events of the night as she's washing the grime away. It's been... different, working with Purity. Much faster and less... awkward in some respects (if more so in others) when compared to scaling the streets by her lonesome. The difference, she supposes, is that they've found the gangsters and not stumbled upon them, as Taylor had been doing while on her own. Maybe it's having a more experienced cape who knows where too look, maybe it's the flight. Either way, she felt like they were the ones on the offensive. And it felt... not good per se, but better than walking around and waiting for something to happen. Not so boring, that's for certain.

As for the woman herself? She's impressive. And she doesn't mean her power, although yes, it is remarkable too, befitting of someone considered to be one of the top capes in the city. But no, what she finds so impressive about her is how she just- knows (comes with the experience probably but all the same). When it came to testing Taylor's power, looking for information, the attack on the ABB building? She was collected, methodical and commanding. She must admit it's calming, having someone tell her what to do and look so assured while doing so.

Hearing a compliment felt nice too. She doesn't hear... well, any, these days.

Actually, it has probably been the best night she's had ever since starting high school. She's worked with an ex-E88 cape, she stuck needles into herself, she helped said cape steal from criminals, caught two of them, got shot while at it. And now she's taking a shower in a Purity's lair. A cape who, if ever caught, would likely be sent to the Birdcage. It's almost surreal.

And she doesn't mind it.

More than that, she finds herself wanting to do it all again.

The feeling is so different from the apathy the girl has gotten so used to that she has trouble processing it. She wants to do something. She wants something!

It's almost invigorating.

She cuts off the water and steps out of the shower, her moves all but frantic as she dries herself off. After putting on her normal set of clothes, she stuffs the ruined one into the backpack, all the while viciously gnawing at her lip to the point of drawing blood without ever noticing.

She wants something more!

Is the difference in having someone to work with or is it this specific woman? Miss Militia seemed... was nice but she's a hero and it's not being one that Taylor is after. Doing some good by Dad is definitely the right thing to do but that alone is just too little. Besides, he would worry if he knew and she will not give him more cause for that, she's bad enough a daughter as it is.

Working alone was... not it either. She went out, she beat some thugs up and went back home. Almost died once or twice but she can't find it in herself to overly care. If feeling what she felt tonight will eventually kill her then so be it. It certainly beats the rope.

Not Wards then, not lone act either. New Wave is just not a option and she doesn't like the idea of bringing more misery to the world as a villain. Purity might not be perfect but she's doing good all the same, as long as that does not change, Taylor is fine with working with her. Or under her. Even after (if) they manage to deal with Lung.

She readjusts her broken goggles, not bothering with the scarf, it's not like the woman hasn't seen her without it. Actually, now that she thinks about it-

She throws the door open and follows the light, leading her to a small kitchen where a somewhat startled Purity is making coffee.

"Is something wrong?" the woman asks.

"No, it's not that. I just had a thought and I wanna ask you something."

"Of course, please sit," she does as asked while her host turns back to her work. "How do you take your coffee, instant or powder?"

"Powder, ten spoons and ten sugars." Purity stills for a few seconds before turning to her guest with a quizzical expression.

"Ergh- a-are, are you sure?"

"Fifteen if you have big mugs." The older cape only continues to stare at her. "What?"

"N-nothing. Ten it is." She murmurs something under her nose when she turns back to the mugs but Taylor can't hear it, it's rude to eavesdrop regardless, even if one's talking to herself.

"So-" she begins once she sets down both their drinks on the table and sits by it, warily eyeing the girl's coffee. "What is it you wanted to ask?"

"Oh, yeah," she stirs the steaming beverage and downs half of it in one gulp. Purity can only stare slack-jawed. Right, most people can't do that, she'll explain later if she doesn't forget."How big is unmasking in the cape world?" The woman's eyes regain some sharpness when she hears the question.

"Depends on the cape I guess. For some it is easy, others find it more difficult. It's- always a danger, just think of what happened when New Wave was created. It can be a sign of trust or a statement of power. Of having power over others..." She falls silent for a moment." But I have a feeling that you want my opinion on it, no?"

"Y-yes."

"Hmm." She goes silent for a couple of long minutes. Her gaze sometimes far-off, sometimes on the younger parahuman and sometimes on the cup that Taylor has in the meanwhile emptied. "I suppose I think of it as of a statement. A promise. You know who the other person is and they know you as well, they hold you to keep your promises, not some cape persona that you've crafted. You. You meet the person behind the mask, sometimes even make friends with them. It makes things more personal."

"...do you- are you against it?" The woman fidgets.

"You mean us unmasking, don't you?" Taylor nods. "Not as such, but Voodoo Doll. It's teams who unmask to each other. We're allies now but that would mean something different."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean obligation. Teammates care for each other in and out of costume." She taps her fingers against the table, a frown crossing her features. "They are also not supposed to abandon each other but- coming from me I don't think it holds that much weight."

"You had a good reason," the girl rushes to reassure her.

"I suppose I had. What I mean to say is that it's not something you should take lightly, if you want to- form a team, then I'm willing to, it's hard to work on your own. But if you don't think you can stick through thick and thin then I don't think we should do it."

Thick and thin? She's willing to fight Lung to the death if need be, she's pretty sure it fits under that label.

"I can do that. As long as you don't go all white supremacist on me and all." Purity chuckles.

"I think I'll manage. But before we do this, I should mention that I'll also have higher expectations of a teammate than of an ally."

"As in?"

"As in I expect you to work out for one-" that seems kinda pointless, but she can deal. "You're going to school yes?" She nods. "Then I expect you to keep your marks at least as they are." She can't help it, she bursts out laughing. "I"m serious."

"N-no I get it, it's just- just." another hysterical giggle bursts from her lips. "My grades are already down in the gutter and- I'm sorry it's just funny what you said," she somehow manages to choke out through her laughter.

"Not a model student I take it? Then I want your grades to at least be acceptable."

"No it's not..." she responds after finally calming down, her sight stuck on her empty mug "I'm average at least. I just- there are these three bitches who keep stealing or ruining my assignments. It is hard to keep up. I... guess I kind of gave up too." She looks up to find Purity's face twisted in distaste.

"You're being bullied?" There's something dangerous in her voice.

"Yeah," she quietly confirms.

The woman leans back and takes a couple deep breaths. She seems calmer when she focuses on Taylor again, although the tension in her whole posture is still apparent.

"We'll think something up, I promise." Taylor wishes she could believe her. It's just so very hard to do so when it comes to the trio. "But let us finish the current topic first since there is one more thing I want to ask. I don't suppose you've told your family about you being a cape?"

"No, no I haven't." And she won't if she has any say in the matter.

"I know how that is... Look, I'm not going to force you into saying anything but I advise you to. The longer it takes, the worse the fallout, though try to not drop it like a bomb and ease them into it instead. Especially since I'm not exactly a reputable cape. God knows how that went down in my case," she murmurs. "So, do you still want to do this?" Does she still need to ask?

"Yes," she answers with conviction that she hasn't felt for far too long. Purity studies her for a while, curiosity painting on her face. And then she smiles.

"Then let me introduce myself again." Her hair and eyes suddenly lose their glow, revealing a surprisingly ordinary looking face framed by brown hair and complimented by light brown eyes. She almost looks mousy without the glowing white of her power. She stands up and extends her hand. "Hello, I'm Kayden."

Taylor tugs her goggles down, curious as to what her own expression is, and follows Kayden's example to shake their hands.

"And I'm Taylor, nice to meet you."

* * *

GDI, it's twice as long as it was supposed to be. Ah well, at least I'm finished with the first arc now. I think I'll make a PHO interlude before the second arc though.

Also, you might have noticed I removed character tags. I was thinking of adding Purity to them and then realised it would be a RATHER big spoiler. And then I went like "Wait..."


	12. PHO - 1

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** Topic: New Cape in Brockton Bay?  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Brockton Bay**

**HighNote** (Original Poster)  
Posted on January 21, 2011:

So it seems like we got ourselves a new cape in our fair city. I was walking my dog yesterday when when a feeling like I had the worst beating in my life hit me.

I didn't even notice till it ended but the whole street went through the same thing, there were people on the ground, some passed out, crashed cars... like a bomb aftermath only there was no bomb.

Far as I know there are (were) no capes in Brockton Bay capable of such a thing so I'm going to assume it's a new one.

Anyone reading this was there? I can't even begin to describe what I felt (I was never seriously injured in my life) but it was just terrible.

**(Showing Page 1 of 13)**

**► H2-U2**  
Replied on January 21, 2011:

Yeah I was there too. Like you said, it just hit like a truck out of nowhere. It was horrible and just wouldn't stop. My friend went unconscious and is still in hospital, awake by now thankfully.  
I hear a lot of people are still asleep though.

**► av4lanche**  
Replied on January 21, 2011:

Great. Another cape who screws with people for shits and giggles. Just what we needed.

**► Hugifyer** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on January 21, 2011:

They were talking about it on the radio yesterday and it's not just one street it was like two blocks. Seems like an AOE power or device or whatever.

Pretty nifty if you ask me, though I do feel sorry for you guys who were there.

**► Mega Sun**  
Replied on January 21, 2011:

Wonder what exactly is that power about. Causing pain? You say people straight up passed out so could there be more to it?

What did you guys feel?

**► MarmoladeSky**  
Replied on January 21, 2011:

Like someone gave me a solid beating, idk don't have much to compare it to. A killer headache and I think I felt my insides, like as if something was in them. Don't wish it on anyone.

**► Fridge_Raider**  
Replied on January 21, 2011:

Unless one of Leet's failures had more kick to it than usual then I think we have a new cape on our hands. Who can knock you out from a block away without you ever seeing them.

Joy.

**► Lunarbob**  
Replied on January 21, 2011:

Anyone actually saw that new cape?

**► Mimik**  
Replied on January 21, 2011:

How nice. A new villain decides to announce his arrival by wrecking my car. I crashed when it happened, no way I could avoid it. Felt like my hands were cut up and I'm not going to go intodetails of what was happening to my stomach (someone knows how to get rid of vomit stains?)

I still feel sick sometimes. Is this the power or is it in my head?

**► HighNote** (Original Poster)  
Replied on January 21, 2011:

Hugifyer (Cape Groupie);  
I guess it would be for someone who wasn't there. But yes, quite a big range. Pity it's probably a villain, though to be honest I kind of have problems picturing someone who goes and does that to a few dozen people for no reason.

Mimik;  
I've had phantom pains for about an hour but nothing more besides bad memories. I think it's just you.

**► Land fish**  
Replied on January 21, 2011:

One more to the basket. Wth Brockton Bay we have too much crazy as it is.

**End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 11 , 12, 13**

**(Showing Page 5 of 13)**

**► Monkey Wrench**  
Replied on February 7, 2011:

Zubarak;  
Going after gangs you say? I remain cautiously optimistic then. If what you say is true though then I doubt we will have a new government hero.

**► XxVoid_CowboyxX**  
Replied on February 7, 2011:

Zubarak;  
Wait wait wait, specify. You mean the girl did not react to the hits and the gangsters got hit instead?

I don't know about you guys but that sorta makes me uncomfortable.

**► ModernCadet**  
Replied on February 7, 2011:

Soooooooooo... we gonna call her Queen or something? (come on, you know we're all thinking it)

**► Chlor1n3**  
Replied on February 7, 2011:

Can someone please verify this? No offense to Zubarak but it would be nice if we finally got a confirmation about that new cape from someone in the know?

**► Zubarak**  
Replied on February 7, 2011:

I'm told she still takes hits, just doesn't seem to get hurt. If you want to know for sure then you're free to go look by yourself but it seems like you feel every hit you throw, without being physically hurt going by what happened on 20th.

Ugh, stop with the Queen, you don't make that sort of comparison, you just don't. The ABB is calling her Voodoo Doll, I think I'm gonna stick with that for now.

**► Boozalt**  
Replied on February 7, 2011:

ModernCadet;  
Dude, not cool.

**► MarmoladeSky**  
Replied on February 7, 2011:

You think it was a fight and that cape redirected the hits to everyone in the area? She's an independent right? Why would she do that?

**► Hugifyer** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on February 7, 2011:

I still say it's pretty nifty. A bit screwed up but nifty. I mean it doesn't physically hurt at least... I hope so anyway. I want a new hero!

**► datSenator**  
Replied on February 8, 2011:

ModernCadet;  
Don't. That would be a dick move. You don't name someone like that because of their power alone. Though I don't know if Voodoo Doll is that much better.

**► Tobik**  
Replied on February 8, 2011:

I have to wonder how would the PR guys handle her though. I mean, I know we shouldn't draw the comparison but come on, be honest. How many of you didn't think of King when reading Zubarak's post?

Also, I don't think Voodoo Doll is a bad name, I still don't know how Shadow Stalker kept hers.

**End of Page. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 ... 11 , 12, 13**

**(Showing Page 7 of 13)**

**► Azshaz**  
Replied on February 12, 2011:

What did you expect, it's been like three weeks and there's still no word from her. Of course we'll give her a name. It's not bad either come on.

**► Lunarbob**  
Replied on February 13, 2011:

Still no footage of her? Descriptions are nice, they stimulate the imagination and all that but seriously, "like she came out from a thrift shop" is not exactly helpful.

**► Accelerated Sweetroll**  
Replied on February 13, 2011:

**Look this up**

It's Purity's thread. It seems like she and Voodoo Doll were working together tonight.

Looks like she's not a hero after all.

**► Hugifyer** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on February 13, 2011:

Oh come on!

**► Mimik**  
Replied on February 13, 2011:

I must say, I had hoped in spite of what happened that she would turn out to be a hero. Then again, can't say I'm surprised.

**► HighNote** (Original Poster)  
Replied on February 13, 2011:

Well, it explains why did we only ever hear about her going after the ABB. Seriously, what's wrong with this city?

**► Zollel**  
Replied on February 13, 2011:

Ayyyy look, another nazi! They multiply by division now? Is Purity building her own squad after leaving the E88 fatherland?

**► Chlor1n3**  
Replied on February 13, 2011:

(sigh) Just when you thought you were getting another hero, or at least a vigilante. I'm so sick of half the capes in Brockton ending up with the nazis.

**► sandwalker**  
Replied on February 13, 2011:

Hasn't Purity left the Empire though? She was acting more like a vigilante this past year (I know for a fact she's saved at least some colored people) Haven't heard if she fought her old gang or no but if Voodoo Doll joined up with her then, well. The lesser of two evils I guess.

Still sucks though.

**► ModernCadet**  
Replied on February 13, 2011:

Hah! Told you we should have named her Queen! I can smell a villain from miles away.

**End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13**


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